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THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

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NORTH  CAROLINA 


From  the  Library  of 
BENNEHAN  CAMERON 

1854-1925 

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his  daughters 

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and 

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WALTOd       RICKETSOM,      SCULP. 


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^^.^^       ^S^^o^F^ 


JO'S   BOYS. 

AND    HOW   THEY   TURNED    OUT 
9  Sequel  to  "tfttle  JHnw'* 


BY 


LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT, 


AUTHOR   OF   *■  LITTLE  WOMEN,"   "  LITTLE    MEN,*'   "  AM  OLD-FASHIONBD   GIS 

"  SIGHT  COUSINS,"    "  ROSE    IN    BLOOM,"    "  UNDE-i     fHB    LILACS,'*    "  JACE 

AND  JILL,"  "  SILVER   PITCHERS,"  "  PROVERB-STOHJES,"  "  SPINNING- 

WHEEL      STORIES,"     "  AUNT       JO'S       SCRAP-bAa,"      "  LULU'S 

S.IBRAKY,''  "WORK"  "  MOODS. "  M  WOSFITAi  3XBTCK*&," 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY 

1910 


Copyright,  1886, 
By  Louisa  M.  Alcott. 


The  University  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

DR.   CONRAD  WESSELHOEFT 

THIS    VERY   INADEQUATE   TRIBUTE    OF    AFFECTION    AND    RESPECT 

Es  (SratrfuIIg  Iiwcrifcrii 

BY   HIS    FRIEND   AND    PATIENT, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


Having  been  written  at  long  intervals  during  the 
pfrst  seven  years,  this  story  is  more  faulty  than  any  of 
its  very  imperfect  predecessors  ;  but  the  desire  to  atone 
foi  an  unavoidable  disappointment,  and  to  please  my 
patient  little  friends,  has  urged  me  to  let  it  go  without 
furtner  delay. 

To  account  for  the  seeming  neglect  of  Amy,  let  me 
add,  that,  since  the  original  of  that  character  died,  it 
has  been  impossible  for  me  to  write  of  her  as  when  she 
was  here  to  suggest,  criticise,  and  laugh  over  her  name- 
sake. The  same  excuse  applies  to  Maemee.  But  the 
folded  leaves  are  not  blank  to  those  who  knew  and 
loved  them,  and  can  find  memorials  of  them  in  what- 
ever is  cheerful,  true,  or  helpful  in  these  pages. 

L.  M.  ALCOTT 
Concord,  July  4,  1886, 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  rAGB 

I.  Ten  Years  Later •    •«..*  7 

IL  Parnassus 26 

III.  Jo's  Last  Scrape 45 

IV.  Dan 66 

V.  Vacation 87 

VI.  Last  Words 113 

VII.  The  Lion  and  the  Lamb 133 

VIII.  Josie  Plays  Mermaid 151 

IX.  The  Worm  Turns 169 

X.  Demi  Settles 186 

XL  Emil's  Thanksgiving 200 

XII.  Dan's  Christmas 210 

XIII.  Nat's  New  Year 223 

XIV.  Plats  at  Plumfield 237 

XV.  Waiting 255 

XVI.  In  the  Tennis  Court 264 

XVII.  Among  the  Maids 281 

XVIII.  Class  Day 295 

XIX.  White  Roses 309 

XX.  Life  for  Life 323 

XXI.  Aslauga's  Knight      . 340 

XXII.  Positively  Last  Appearance <,  355 


JO'S    BOYS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
TEN  YEARS  LATER. 

"TF   any  one  had  told  me  what  wonderful  changes 

■*■  were  to  take  place  here  in  ten  years,  I  would  n't 
have  believed  it,"  said  Mrs.  Jo  to  Mrs.  Meg,  as  they 
sat  on  the  piazza  at  Plumfleld  one  summer  day,  looking 
about  them  with  faces  full  of  pride  and  pleasure. 

"This  is  the  sort  of  magic  that  money  and  kind 
hearts  can  work.  I  am  sure  Mr.  Laurence  could  have 
no  nobler  monument  than  the  college  he  so  generously 
endowed ;  and  a  home  like  this  will  keep  Aunt  March's 
memory  green  as  long  as  it  lasts,"  answered  Mrs.  Meg, 
alwa}Ts  glad  to  praise  the  absent. 

"  We  used  to  believe  in  fairies,  you  remember,  and 
plan  what  we  'd  ask  for  if  we  could  have  three  wishes. 
Does  n't  it  seem  as  if  mine  had  been  really  granted  at 
last?  Money,  fame,  and  plenty  of  the  work  I  love," 
said  Mrs.  Jo,  carelessly  rumpling  up  her  hair  as  she 
clasped  her  hands  over  her  head  just  as  she  used  to  do 
when  a  girl. 

"  I  have  had  mine,  and  Amy  is  enjoying  hers  to  her 
heart's  content.     If  dear  Marmee,  John,  and  Beth  were 


8  JO'S  BOYS. 

here,  it  would  be  quite  perfect,"  added  Meg,  with  a 
tender  quiver  in  her  voice ;  for  Marmee's  place  was 
empty  now. 

Jo  put  her  hand  on  her  sister's,  and  both  sat  silent  for 
a  little  while,  surveying  the  pleasant  scene  before  them 
with  mingled  sad  and  happy  thoughts. 

It  certainly  did  look  as  if  magic  had  been  at  work, 
for  quiet  Plumfield  was  transformed  into  a  busy  little 
world.  The  house  seemed  more  hospitable  than  ever, 
refreshed  with  new  paint,  added  wings,  well-kept  lawn 
and  garden,  and  a  prosperous  air  it  had  not  worn  when 
riotous  boys  swarmed  ever}Twhere  and  it  was  rather 
difficult  for  the  Bhaers  to  make  both  ends  meet.  On 
the  hill,  where  kites  used  to  be  flown,  stood  the  fine  col- 
lege which  Mr.  Laurence's  munificent  legacy  had  built. 
Busy  students  were  going  to  and  fro  along  the  paths 
once  trodden  by  childish  feet,  and  many  young  men  and 
women  were  enjoying  all  the  advantages  that  wealth, 
wisdom,  and  benevolence  could  give  them. 

Just  inside  the  gates  of  Plumfield  a  pretty  brown  cot- 
tage, ven^  like  the  Dove-cote,  nestled  among  the  trees, 
and  on  the  green  slope  westward  Laurie's  white-pillared 
mansion  glittered  in  the  sunshine ;  for  when  the  rapid 
growth  of  the  city  shut  in  the  old  house,  spoilt  Meg's 
nest,  and  dared  to  put  a  soap-factoiy  under  Mr.  Lau- 
rence's indignant  nose,  our  friends  emigrated  to  Plum- 
field, and  the  great  changes  began. 

These  were  the  pleasant  ones ;  and  the  loss  of  the 
dear  old  people  was  sweetened  by  the  blessings  they  left 
behind ;  so  all  prospered  now  in  the  little  community, 
and  Mr.  Bhaer  as  president,  and  Mr.  March  as  chap- 
lain, of  the  college,  saw  their   long-cherished  dream 


TEN   YEARS  LATER.  9 

beautifully  realized.  The  sisters  divided  the  care  of  the 
young  people  among  them,  each  taking  the  part  that 
suited  her  best.  Meg  was  the  motherly  friend  of  the 
young  women,  Jo  the  confidante  and  defender  of  alJ 
the  youths,  and  Anry  the  Lady  Bountiful  who  delicately 
smoothed  the  way  for  needy  students,  and  entertained 
them  all  so  cordially  that  it  was  no  wonder  they  named 
her  lovely  home  Mount  Parnassus,  so  full  was  it  of 
music,  beauty,  and  the  culture  hungry  young  hearts 
and  fancies  long  for. 

The  original  twelve  boys  had  of  course  scattered  far 
and  wide  during  these  years,  but  all  that  lived  still  re- 
membered old  Plumfield,  and  came  wandering  back  from 
the  four  quarters  of  the  earth  to  tell  their  various  expe- 
riences, laugh  over  the  pleasures  of  the  past,  and  face 
the  duties  of  the  present  with  fresh  courage ;  for  such 
home-comings  keep  hearts  tender  and  hands  helpful 
with  the  memories  of  }Toung  and  happ}^  cla}~s.  A  few 
words  will  tell  the  history  of  each,  and  then  we  can  go 
on  with  the  new  chapter  of  their  lives. 

Franz  was  with  a  merchant  kinsman  in  Hamburg,  a 
man  of  twent3T-six  now,  and  doing  well.  Emil  was  the 
jolliest  tar  that  ever  "  sailed  the  ocean  blue."  His  uncle 
sent  him  on  a  long  voyage  to  disgust  him  with  this  ad- 
venturous life  ;  but  he  came  home  so  delighted  with  it 
that  it  was  plain  this  was  his  profession,  and  the  German 
kinsman  gave  him  a  good  chance  in  his  ships  ;  so  the 
lad  was  happy.  Dan  was  a  wanderer  still ;  for  after  the 
geological  researches  in  South  America  he  tried  sheep- 
farming  in  Australia,  and  was  now  in  California  looking 
up  mines.  Nat  was  busy  with  music  at  the  Conserva- 
tory, preparing  for  a  year  or  two  in  Germany  to  finish 


10  JO'S  BOYS. 

him  off.  Tom  was  studying  medicine  and  trying  to  like 
it.  Jack  was  in  business  with  his  father,  bent  on  get- 
ting rich.  Dolly  was  in  college  with  Stuffy  and  Ned 
reading  law.  Poor  little  Dick  was  dead,  so  was  Billy  ; 
and  no  one  could  mourn  for  them,  since  life  would  never 
be  happ}^,  afflicted  as  they  were  in  mind  and  bodj' . 

Rob  and  Tedd}T  were  called  the  "  Lion  and  the  Lamb  ; " 
for  the  latter  was  as  rampant  as  the  king  of  beasts,  and 
the  former  as  gentle  as  any  sheep  that  ever  baaed. 
Mrs.  Jo  called  him  "  nry  daughter,"  and  found  him  the 
most  dutiful  of  children,  with  plenty  of  manliness  under- 
lying the  quiet  manners  and  tender  nature.  But  in  Ted 
she  seemed  to  see  all  the  faults,  whims,  aspirations,  and 
fun  of  her  own  youth  in  a  new  shape.  With  his  tawny 
locks  alwa}'s  in  wild  confusion,  his  long  legs  and  arms, 
loud  voice,  and  continual  activity,  Ted  was  a  prominent 
figure  at  Plumfield.  He  had  his  moods  of  gloom,  and 
fell  into  the  Slough  of  Despond  about  once  a  week,  to  be 
hoisted  out  hy  patient  Rob  or  his  mother,  who  under- 
stood when  to  let  him  alone  and  when  to  shake  him  up. 
He  was  her  pride  and  joy  as  well  as  torment,  being  a 
very  bright  lad  for  his  age,  and  so  full  of  all  sorts  of 
budding  talent,  that  her  maternal  mind  was  much  exer- 
cised as  to  what  this  remarkable  boy  would  become. 

Demi  had  gone  through  college  with  honor,  and  Mrs. 
Meg  had  set  her  heart  on  his  being  a  minister,  —  pic- 
turing in  her  fond  fancy  the  first  sermon  her  dignified 
young  parson  would  preach,  as  well  as  the  long,  useful, 
and  honored  life  he  was  to  lead.  But  John,  as  she 
called  him  now,  firmly  declined  the  divinity  school, 
saying  he  had  had  enough  of  books,  and  needed  to 
know  more  of  men  and  the  world,  and  caused  the  dear 


TEN  YEARS  LATER.  11 

woman  much  disappointment  by  deciding  to  try  a 
journalist's  career.  It  was  a  blow  ;  but  she  knew  that 
young  minds  cannot  be  driven,  and  that  experience  is 
the  best  teacher ;  so  she  let  him  follow  his  own  inclina- 
tions, still  hoping  to  see  him  in  the  pulpit.  Aunt  Jo 
raged  when  she  found  that  there  was  to  be  a  reporter 
in  the  family,  and  called  him  ' '  Jenkins  "  on  the  spot. 
She  liked  his  literary  tendencies,  but  had  reason  to  de- 
test official  Paul  Prys,  as  we  shall  see  later.  Demi 
knew  his  own  mind,  however,  and  tranquilly  carried 
out  his  plans,  unmoved  by  the  tongues  of  the  anxious 
mammas  or  the  jokes  of  his  mates.  Uncle  Teddy  en- 
couraged him,  and  painted  a  splendid  career,  mention- 
ing Dickens  and  other  celebrities  who  began  as  reporters 
and  ended  as  famous  novelists  or  newspaper  men. 

The  girls  were  all  flourishing.  Daisy,  as  sweet  and 
domestic  as  ever,  was  her  mother's  comfort  and  compan- 
ion. Josie  at  fourteen  was  a  most  original  young  person, 
full  of  pranks  and  peculiarities,  the  latest  of  which  was 
a  passion  for  the  stage,  which  caused  her  quiet  mother 
and  sister  much  anxiety  as  well  as  amusement.  Bess 
had  grown  into  a  tall,  beautiful  girl,  looking  several 
years  older  than  she  was,  with  the  same  graceful  ways 
and  dainty  tastes  which  the  little  Princess  had,  and  a 
rich  inheritance  of  both  the  father's  and  mother's  gifts, 
fostered  by  every  aid  love  and  money  could  give.  But 
the  pride  of  the  community  was  Naughty  Nan ;  for, 
like  so  many  restless,  wilful  children,  she  was  growing 
into  a  woman  full  of  the  energ}*  and  promise  that  sud- 
denly blossoms  when  the  ambitious  seeker  finds  the 
work  she  is  fitted  to  do  well.  Nan  began  to  study 
medicine   at  sixteen,  and  at  twenty  was   getting  on 


12  JO'S  BOYS. 

bravely;  for  now,  thanks  to  other  intelligent  women, 
colleges  and  hospitals  were  open  to  her.  She  had 
never  wavered  in  her  purpose  from  the  childish  days 
when  she  shocked  Daisy  in  the  old  willow  by  saying, 
' '  I  don't  want  any  family  to  fuss  over.  I  shall  have  an 
office,  with  bottles  and  pestle  things  in  it,  and  drive 
round  and  cure  folks."  The  future  foretold  by  the 
little  girl  the  3'oung  woman  was  rapidly  bringing  to 
pass,  and  finding  so  much  happiness  in  it  that  nothing 
could  win  her  from  the  chosen  work.  Several  worthy 
young  gentlemen  had  tried,  to  make  her  change  her 
mind  and  choose,  as  Daisy  did,  "  a  nice  little  house 
and  a  family  to  take  care  of."  But  Nan  only  laughed, 
and  routed  the  lovers  by  proposing  to  look  at  the 
tongue  which  spoke  of  adoration,  or  professionally  felt 
the  pulse  in  the  manly  hand  offered  for  her  acceptance. 
So  all  departed  but  one  persistent  youth,  who  was 
such  a  devoted  Traddles  it  was  impossible  to  quench 
him. 

This  was  Tom,  who  was  as  faithful  to  his  child 
sweetheart  as  she  to  her  "  pestle  things,"  and  gave  a 
proof  of  fidelity  that  touched  her  veiy  much.  He 
studied  medicine  for  her  sake  alone,  having  no  taste  for 
it,  and  a  decided  fancy  for  a  mercantile  life.  But  Nan 
was  firm,  and  Tom  stoutly  kept  on,  devoutly  hoping  he 
might  not  kill  many  of  his  fellow-beings  when  he  came 
to  practise.  They  were  excellent  friends,  however,  and 
caused  much  amusement  to  their  comrades  by  the  vicis- 
situdes of  this  merry  love-chase. 

Both  were  approaching  Plumfield  on  the  afternoon 
when  Mrs.  Meg  and  Mrs.  Jo  were  talking  on  the 
piazza.     Not  together ;    for  Nan  was  walking  briskly 


TEN  YEARS  LATER-  13 

along  the  pleasant  road  alone,  thinking  over  a  case 
that  interested  her,  and  Tom  was  pegging  on  behind  to 
overtake  her,  as  if  by  accident,  when  the  suburbs  of 
the  city  were  past,  —  a  little  way  of  his,  which  was  part 
of  the  joke. 

Nan  was  a  handsome  girl,  with  a  fresh  color,  clear  eye, 
quick  smile,  and  the  self-poised  look  young  women  with 
a  purpose  always  have.  She  was  simply  and  sensibly 
dressed,  walked  easily,  and  seemed  full  of  vigor,  with 
her  broad  shoulders  well  back,  arms  swinging  freely, 
and  the  elasticity  of  youth  and  health  in  every  motion. 
The  few  people  she  met  turned  to  look  at  her,  as  if  it 
was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  a  hearty,  happy  girl  walking 
countr}Tward  that  lovely  day  ;  and  the  red-faced  young 
man  steaming  along  behind,  hat  off  and  every  tight 
curl  wagging  with  impatience,  evidently  agreed  with 
them. 

Presently  a  mild  ' '  Hullo !  "  was  borne  upon  the 
breeze,  and  pausing,  with  an  effort  to  look  surprised 
that  was  an  utter  failure,  Nan  said  affably,  — 

"Oh,  is  that  you,  Tom?" 

"  Looks  like  it.  Thought  you  might  be  walking  out 
to-day  ; "  and  Tom's  jovial  face  beamed  with  pleasure. 

"You  knew  it.  How  is  your  throat?"  asked  Nan 
in  her  professional  tone,  which  was  always  a  quencher 
to  undue  raptures. 

"Throat?  —  oh,  ah!  yes,  I  remember.  It  is  well. 
The  effect  of  that  prescription  was  wonderful.  I'll 
never  call  homoeopath}'   a  humbug  again." 

"  You  were  the  humbug  this  time,  and  so  were  the 
unmedicated  pellets  I  gave  you.  If  sugar  of  milk  can 
cure  diphtheria  in  this  remarkable  manner,  I  '11  make  a 


14  JO'S  BOYS. 

note  of  it.    O  Tom,  Tom,  will  you  never  be  done  play- 
ing tricks  ?  " 

"  O  Nan,  Nan,  will  you  never  be  done  getting  the 
better  of  me  ?  "  And  the  merry  pair  laughed  at  one 
another  just  as  they  did  in  the  old  times,  which  always 
came  back  freshly  when  thej^  went  to  Plumfield. 

"  Well,  I  knew  I  should  n't  see  yon  for  a  week  if  I 
did  n't  scare  up  some  excuse  for  a  call  at  the  office. 
You  are  so  desperately  busy  all  the  time  I  never  get  a 
word,"  explained  Tom. 

"  You  ought  to  be  busy  too,  and  above  such  non 
sense.  Really,  Tom,  if  you  don't  give  your  mind  U 
your  lectures,  3*ou  '11  never  get  on,"  said  Nan,  soberly. 

"  I  have  quite  enough  of  them  as  it  is,"  answered 
Tom,  with  an  air  of  disgust.  "  A  fellow  must  lark  a 
bit  after  dissecting  corpuses  all  day.  I  can  't  stand  it 
long  at  a  time,  though  some  people  seem  to  enjoy  it 
immensely." 

"  Then  why  not  leave  it,  and  do  what  suits  you  bet- 
ter?  I  always  thought  it  a  foolish  thing,  you  know," 
said  Nan,  with  a  trace  of  anxiety  in  the  keen  e}'es  that 
searched  for  signs  of  illness  in  a  face  as  ruddy  as  a 
Baldwin  apple. 

"You  know  why  I  chose  it,  and  why  I  shall  stick 
to  it  if  it  kills  me.  I  may  not  look  delicate,  but  I  've  a 
deep-seated  heart  complaint,  and  it  will  carry  me  off 
sooner  or  later ;  for  only  one  doctor  in  the  world  can 
cure  it,  and  she  won't." 

There  was  an  air  of  pensive  resignation  about  Tom 
that  was  both  comic  and  pathetic  ;  for  he  was  in  earnest, 
and  kept  on  giving  hints  of  this  sort,  without  the  least 
encouragement. 


TEN  YEARS  LATER.  15 

Nan  frowned ;  but  she  was  used  to  it,  and  knew  how 
to  treat  him. 

"  She  is  curing  it  in  the  best  and  only  way ;  but  a 
more  refractory  patient  never  lived.  Did  you  go  to 
that  ball,  as  I  directed?" 

"  I  did." 

"  And  devote  yourself  to  pretty  Miss  West?" 

"  Danced  with  her  the  whole  evening." 

"  No  impression  made  on  that  susceptible  organ  of 
yours  ?  " 

"  Not  the  slightest.  I  gaped  in  her  face  once,  forgot 
to  feed  her,  and  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  when  I  handed  her 
over  to  her  mamma." 

"  Repeat  the  dose  as  often  as  possible,  and  note  the 
svmptoms.     I  predict  that  vou  will  4  cry  for  it'  by  and 

by." 

"  Never !     I  'm  sure  it  does  n't  suit  my  constitution." 

44  "We  shall  see.     Obey  orders  !  "  sternly. 

44  Yes,  Doctor,"  meekly. 

Silence  reigned  for  a  moment ;  then,  as  if  the  bone  of 
contention  was  forgotten  in  the  pleasant  recollections 
called  up  by  familiar  objects,  Nan  said,  suddenly,  — 

"  What  fun  we  used  to  have  in  that  wood  !  Do  you 
remember  how  you  tumbled  out  of  the  big  nut-tree  and 
nearly  broke  your  collar-bone  ?  " 

"  Don't  I !  and  how  you  steeped  me  in  wormwood 
till  I  was  a  fine  mahogany  color,  and  Aunt  Jo  wailed 
over  my  spoilt  jacket,"  laughed  Tom,  a  boy  again  in  a 
minute. 

44  And  how  you  set  the  house  afire?  " 

44  And  you  ran  off"  for  your  band-box? " 

"  Do  you  ever  say  '  Thunder-turtles'  now?" 


16  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  Do  people  ever  call  you  '  Giddy-gadcty '  ?  " 

"  Daisy  does.  Dear  thing,  I  haven't  seen  her  for  a 
week." 

"  I  saw  Demi  this  morning,  and  he  said  she  was 
keeping  house  for  Mother  Bhaer." 

"  She  always  does  when  Aunt  Jo  gets  into  a  vortex. 
Daisy  is  a  model  housekeeper;  and  you  couldn't  do 
better  than  make  your  bow  to  her,  if  you  can't  go  to 
work  and  wait  till  you  are  grown  up  before  you  begin 
lovering." 

"  Nat  would  break  his  fiddle  over  my  head  if  I  sug- 
gested such  a  thing.  No,  thank  you.  Another  name 
is  engraved  upon  my  heart  as  indelibly  as  the  blue 
anchor  on  my  arm.  '  Hope  '  is  my  motto,  and  '  No 
surrender,'  yours ;    see  who  will  hold  out  longest." 

' '  You  silly  boys  think  we  must  pair  off  as  we'  did 
when  children ;  but  we  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind. 
How  well  Parnassus  looks  from  here ! "  said  Nan,  ab- 
ruptly changing  the  conversation  again. 

"It  is  a  fine  house ;  but  I  love  old  Plum  best. 
Would  n't  Aunt  March  stare  if  she  could  see  the  changes 
here  ?  "  answered  Tom,  as  the}-  both  paused  at  the  great 
gate  to  look  at  the  pleasant  landscape  before  them. 

A  sudden  whoop  startled  them,  as  a  long  boy  with  a 
wild  3'ellow  head  came  leaping  over  a  hedge  like  a 
kangaroo,  followed  by  a  slender  girl,  who  stuck  in  the 
hawthorn,  and  sat  there  laughing  like  a  witch.  A  pretty 
little  lass  she  was,  with  curly  dark  hair,  bright  eyes, 
and  a  very  expressive  face.  Her  hat  was  at  her  back, 
and  her  skirts  a  good  deal  the  worse  for  the  brooks  she 
had  ciossed,  the  trees  she  had  climbed,  and  the  last 
leap,  which  added  several  fine  rente 


TEN   YEARS  LATER.  17 

"  Take  ine  down,  Nan,  please.  Tom,  hold  Ted ; 
he  's  got  my  book,  and  I  will  have  it,"  called  Josie  from 
her  perch,  not  at  all  daunted  by  the  appearance  of  her 
friends. 

Tom  promptly  collared  the  thief,  while  Nan  picked 
Josie  from  among  the  thorns  and  set  her  on  her  feet 
without  a  word  of  reproof;  for  having  been  a  romp  in 
her  own  girlhood,  she  was  very  indulgent  to  like  tastes 
in  others.  "What's  the  matter,  dear?"  she  asked, 
pinning  up  the  longest  rip,  while  Josie  examined  the 
scratches  on  her  hands. 

"I  was  studying  my  part  in  the  willow,  and  Ted 
came  slyly  up  and  poked  the  book  out  of  my  hands 
with  his  rod.  It  fell  in  the  brook,  and  before  I  could 
scrabble  down  he  was  off.  You  wretch,  give  it  back 
this  moment  or  I'll  box  your  ears,"  cried  Josie,  laugh- 
ing and  scolding  in  the  same  breath. 

Escaping  from  Tom,  Ted  struck  a  sentimental  atti- 
tude, and  with  tender  glances  at  the  wet,  torn  young 
person  before  him,  delivered  Claude  Melnotte's  famous 
speech  in  a  lackadaisical  way  that  was  irresistibly 
funny,  ending  with  "  Dost  like  the  picture,  love?"  as 
he  made  an  object  of  himself  by  tying  his  long  legs 
in  a  knot  and  distorting  his  face  horribly. 

The  sound  of  applause  from  the  piazza  put  a  stop  to 
these  antics,  and  the  young  folks  went  up  the  avenue 
together  very  much  in  the  old  style  when  Tom  drove 
four  in  hand  and  Nan  was  the  best  horse  in  the  team. 
Kosy,  breathless,  and  merry,  they  greeted  the  ladies 
and  sat  down  on  the  steps  to  rest,  Aunt  Meg  sewing 
up  her  daughter's  rags  while  Mrs.  Jo  smoothed  the 
Lion's  mane,  and  rescued  the  book.     Daisy  appeared 

2_ 


18  JO'S  BOYS. 

in  a  moment  to  greet  her  friend,  and  all  began  to 
talk. 

"Muffins  for  tea;  better  stay  and  eat 'em ;  Daisy's 
never  fail,"  said  Ted,  hospitably. 

"  He's  a  judge  ;  he  ate  nine  last  time.  That's  why 
he 's  so  fat,"  added  Josie,  with  a  withering  glance  at 
her  cousin,  who  was  as  thin  as  a  lath. 

"  I  must  go  and  see  Lucy  Dove.  She  has  a  whitlow, 
and  it 's  time  to  lance  it.  I  '11  tea  at  college,"  answered 
Nan,  feeling  in  her  pocket  to  be  sure  she  had  not  for- 
gotten her  case  of  instruments. 

i '  Thanks,  I  'm  going  there  also.  Tom  Merry  weather 
has  granulated  lids,  and  I  promised  to  touch  them  up 
for  him.  Save  a  doctor's  fee  and  be  good  practice  for 
me.  I'm  clumsy  with  my  thumbs,"  said  Tom,  bound 
to  be  near  his  idol  while  he  could. 

' '  Hush  !  Daisy  does  n't  like  to  hear  you  saw-bones 
talk  of  your  work.  Muffins  suit  us  better ; "  and  Ted 
grinned  sweetly,  with  a  view  to  future  favors  in  the  eat- 
ing line. 

"  Any  news  of  the  Commodore?"  asked  Tom. 

"He  is  on  his  way  home,  and  Dan  hopes  to  come 
soon.  I  long  to  see  my  boys  together,  and  have  begged 
the  wanderers  to  come  to  Thanksgiving,  if  not  before," 
answered  Mrs.  Jo,  beaming  at  the  thought. 

"They'll  come,  every  man  of  them,  if  they  can. 
Even  Jack  will  risk  losing  a  dollar  for  the  sake  of  one 
of  our  jolly  old  dinners,"  laughed  Tom. 

"  There 's  the  turkey  fattening  for  the  feast.  I  never 
chase  him  now,  but  feed  him  well ;  and  he 's  l  swellin' 
wisibly,'  bless  his  drumsticks  !  "  said  Ted,  pointing  out 
the  doomed  fowl  proudly  parading  in  a  neighboring  field. 


TEN   YEARS  LATER.  19 

"  If  Nat  goes  the  last  of  the  month  we  shall  want  a 
farewell  frolic  for  him.  I  suppose  the  dear  old  Chirper 
will  come  home  a  second  Ole  Bull,"  said  Nan  to  her 
friend. 

A  pretty  color  came  into  Daisy's  cheek,  and  the  folds 
of  muslin  on  her  breast  rose  and  fell  with  a  quick 
breath  ;  but  she  answered  placidly,  "  Uncle  Laurie  says 
he  has  real  talent,  and  after  the  training  he  will  get 
abroad  he  can  command  a  good  living  here,  though  he 
may  never  be  famous." 

"  Young  people  seldom  turn  out  as  one  predicts,  so 
it  is  of  little  use  to  expect  anything,"  said  Mrs.  Meg 
with  a  sigh.  "  If  our  children  are  good  and  useful  men 
and  women,  we  should  be  satisfied  ;  yet  it's  very  natural 
to  wish  them  to  be  brilliant  and  successful." 

' '  The}'  are  like  my  chickens,  mighty  uncertain.  Now, 
that  fine-looking  cockerel  of  mine  is  the  stupidest  one 
of  the  lot,  and  the  ugly,  long-legged  chap  is  the  king 
of  the  yard,  he 's  so  smart ;  crows  loud  enough  to  wake 
the  Seven  Sleepers ;  but  the  handsome  one  croaks,  and 
is  no  end  of  a  coward.  J  get  snubbed  ;  but  you  wait  till 
I  grow  up,  and  then  see ; "  and  Ted  looked  so  like  his 
own  long-legged  pet  that  every  one  laughed  at  his 
modest  prediction. 

"  I  want  to  see  Dan  settled  somewhere.  i  A  rolling 
stone  gathers  no  moss,'  and  at  twenty-five  he  is  still 
roaming  about  the  world  without  a  tie  to  hold  him,  ex- 
cept this  ;  "  and  Mrs.  Meg  nodded  toward  her  sister. 

"  Dan  will  find  his  place  at  last,  and  experience  is  his 
best  teacher.  He  is  rough  still,  but  each  time  he  comes 
home  I  see  a  change  for  the  better,  and  never  lose  my 
faith  in  him.     He  may  never  do  anything  great,  or  get 


20  JO'S  BOYS. 

rich ;  but  if  the  wild  boy  makes  an  honest  man,  I'm  sat- 
isfied," said  Mrs.  Jo,  who  alwa}Ts  defended  the  black 
sheep  of  her  flock. 

"  That's  right,  mother,  stand  03-  Dan  !  He's  worth 
a  dozen  Jacks  and  Neds  bragging  about  mone}T  and  try- 
ing to  be  swells.  You  see  if  he  does  n't  do  something 
to  be  proud  of  and  take  the  wind  out  of  their  sails," 
added  Ted,  whose  love  for  his  "Danny"  was  now 
strengthened  by  a  boy's  admiration  for  the  bold,  ad- 
venturous man. 

"  Hope  so,  I  'm  sure.  He 's  just  the  fellow  to  do  rash 
things  and  come  to  glory,  —  climbing  the  Matterhorn, 
taking  a  '  header '  into  Niagara,  or  finding  a  big  nugget. 
That's  his  way  of  sowing  wild  oats,  and  perhaps  it's 
better  than  ours,"  said  Tom,  thoughtfully;  for  he  had 
gained  a  good  deal  of  experience  in  that  sort  of  agricul- 
ture since  he  became  a  medical  student. 

"  Much  better  !  "  said  Mrs.  Jo,  emphatically.  "  I'd 
rather  send  my  boys  off  to  see  the  world  in  that  way 
than  leave  them  alone  in  a  city  full  of  temptations,  with 
nothing  to  do  but  waste  time,  money,  and  health,  as  so 
many  are  left.  Dan  has  to  work  his  way,  and  that 
teaches  him  courage,  patience  and  self-reliance.  I 
don't  worry  about  him  as  much  as  I  do  about  George 
and  Dolly  at  college,  no  more  fit  than  two  babies  to 
take  care  of  themselves." 

"How  about  John?  He's  knocking  round  town  as 
a  newspaper  man,  reporting  all  sorts  of  things,  from 
sermons  to  prize-fights,"  asked  Tom,  who  thought  that 
sort  of  life  would  be  much  more  to  his  own  taste  than 
medical  lectures  and  hospital  wTards. 

"Demi  has  three  safeguards, — good  principles,  re* 


TEN   YEARS  LATER.  21 

fined  tastes,  and  a  wise  mother.  He  won't  come  to 
harm,  and  these  experiences  will  be  useful  to  him  when 
he  begins  to  write,  as  I'm  sure  he  will  in  time,"  began 
Mrs.  Jo  in  her  prophetic  tone ;  for  she  was  anxious  to 
have  some  of  her  geese  turn  out  swans. 

"  Speak  of  Jenkins,  and  you'll  hear  the  rustling  of 
his  paper,"  cried  Tom,  as  a  fresh-faced,  brown-eyed 
young  man  came  up  the  avenue,  waving  a  newspaper 
over  his  head. 

"Here  's  your  '  Evening  Tattler  ! '  Latest  edition  ! 
Awful  murder !  Bank  clerk  absconded  !  Powder-mill 
explosion,  and  great  strike  of  the  Latin  School  boys  !  " 
roared  Ted,  going  to  meet  his  cousin  with  the  graceful 
gait  of  a  young  giraffe. 

"The  Commodore  is  in,  and  will  cut  his  cable  and 
run  before  the  wind  as  soon  as  he  can  get  off,"  called 
Demi,  with  "  a  nice  derangement  of  nautical  epitaphs," 
as  he  came  up  smiling  over  his  good  news. 

Every  one  talked  together  for  a  moment,  and  the 
paper  passed  from  hand  to  hand  that  each  eye  might 
rest  on  the  pleasant  fact  that  the  "  Brenda,"  from  Ham- 
burg, was  safe  in  port. 

"  He  '11  come  lurching  out  by  to-morrow  with  his  usual 
collection  of  marine  monsters  and  lively  3Tarns.  I  saw 
him,  jolly  and  tariy  and  brown  as  a  coffee-berry.  Had 
a  good  run,  and  hopes  to  be  second  mate,  as  the  other 
chap  is  laid  up  with  a  broken  leg,"  added  Demi. 

"  Wish  I  had  the  setting  of  it,"  said  Nan  to  herself, 
with  a  professional  twist  of  her  hand. 

"  How 's  Franz  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Jo. 

"  He  "s  going  to  be  married  !  There 's  news  for  you. 
The  first  of  the  flock,  Aunty,  so  say  good-by  to  him 


22  JO'S  BOYS. 

Her  name  is  Ludmilla  Hildegard  Blumenthal ;  good 
family,  well-off,  pretty,  and  of  course  an  angel.  The 
dear  old  boy  wants  uncle's  consent,  and  then  he  will 
settle  down  to  be  a  happy  and  an  honest  burgher.  Loug 
life  to  him  !  " 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  I  do  so  like  to  settle  my  boj's 
with  a  good  wife  and  a  nice  little  home.  Now,  if  all  is 
right,  I  shall  feel  as  if  Franz  was  off  my  mind,"  said 
Mrs.  Jo,  folding  her  hands  contentedly ;  for  she  often 
felt  like  a  distracted  hen  with  a  large  brood  of  mixed 
chickens  and  ducks  upon  her  hands. 

"So  do  I,"  sighed  Tom,  with  a  sty  glance  at  Nan. 
"  That 's  what  a  fellow  needs  to  keep  him  steady  ;  and 
it 's  the  duty  of  nice  girls  to  marry  as  soon  as  possible, 
is  n't  it,  Demi?" 

"  If  there  are  enough  nice  fellows  to  go  round.  The 
female  population  exceeds  the  male,  }*ou  know,  espe- 
cially in  New  England  ;  which  accounts  for  the  high  state 
of  culture  we  are  in,  perhaps,"  answered  John,  who  was 
leaning  over  his  mother's  chair,  telling  his  daj-'s  experi- 
ences in  a  whisper. 

"It  is  a  merciful  provision,  my  dears;  for  it  takes 
three  or  four  women  to  get  each  man  into,  through,  and 
out  of  the  world.  You  are  costly  creatures,  boys  ;  and 
it  is  well  that  mothers,  sisters,  wives,  and  daughters  love 
their  duty  and  do  it  so  well,  or  you  would  perish  off  the 
face  of  the  earth,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  solemnly,  as  she  took 
up  a  basket  filled  with  dilapidated  hose ;  for  the  good 
Professor  was  still  hard  on  his  socks,  and  his  sons  re- 
sembled him  in  that  respect. 

"  Such  being  the  case,  there  is  a  plenty  for  the  i  su- 
perfluous women '  to  do,  in  taking  care  of  these  helpless 


TEN   YEARS  LATER.  23 

men  and  their  families.  I  see  that  more  clearly  every 
day,  and  am  very  glad  and  grateful  that  my  profession 
will  make  me  a  useful,  happy,  and  independent  spinster." 

Nan's  emphasis  on  the  last  word  caused  Tom  to 
groan,  and  the  rest  to  laugh. 

"I  take  great  pride  and  solid  satisfaction  in  you, 
Nan,  and  hope  to  see  you  very  successful ;  for  we  do 
need  just  such  helpful  women  in  the  world.  I  some- 
times feel  as  if  I  'd  missed  my  vocation  and  ought  to 
have  remained  single ;  but  my  duty  seemed  to  point 
this  way,  and  I  don't  regret  it,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  folding  a 
large  and  very  ragged  blue  sock  to  her  bosom. 

"  Neither  do  I.  What  should  I  ever  have  done  with- 
out my  dearest  Mum?"  added  Ted,  with  a  filial  hug 
which  caused  both  to  disappear  behind  the  newspaper 
in  which  he  had  been  mercifully  absorbed  for  a  few 
minutes. 

"  My  darling  boy,  if  you  would  wash  your  hands 
semi-occasionahy,  fond  caresses  would  be  less  disastrous 
to  my  collar.  Never  mind,  my  precious  touzle-head, 
better  grass- stains  and  dirt  than  no  cuddlings  at  all ;  " 
and  Mrs.  Jo  emerged  from  that  brief  eclipse  looking 
much  refreshed,  though  her  back  hair  was  caught  in 
Ted's  buttons  and  her  collar  under  one  ear. 

Here  Josie,  who  had  been  studying  her  part  at  the 
other  end  of  the  piazza,  suddenly  burst  forth  with  a 
smothered  shriek,  and  gave  Juliet's  speech  in  the  tomb 
so  effectively  that  the  boys  applauded,  Daisy  shivered, 
and  Nan  murmured,  "  Too  much  cerebral  excitement 
for  one  of  her  age." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  '11  have  to  make  up  your  mind  to  it, 
Meg.      That  child  is  a  born  actress.     We  never  did 


24  JO'S  BOYS. 

anything  so  well,  not  even  the  '  Witch's  Curse,' "  said 
Mrs.  Jo,  casting  a  bouquet  of  many-colored  socks  at 
the  feet  of  her  flushed  and  panting  niece,  when  she  fell 
gracefully  upon  the  door-mat. 

"  It  is  a  sort  of  judgment  upon  me  for  my  passion 
for  the  stage  when  a  girl.  Now  I  know  how  dear 
Marmee  felt  when  I  begged  to  be  an  actress.  I  never 
can  consent,  and  yet  I  may  be  obliged  to  give  up  my 
wishes,  hopes,  and  plans  again." 

There  was  an  accent  of  reproach  in  his  mother's 
voice,  which  made  Demi  pick  up  his  sister  with  a  gentle 
shake,  and  the  stern  command  to  "  drop  that  nonsense 
in  public." 

"Drop  me,  Minion,  or  I'll  give  you  the  *  Maniac 
Bride,'  with  my  best  Ha-ha !  "  cried  Josie,  glaring  at 
him  like  an  offended  kitten. 

Being  set  on  her  feet,  she  made  a  splendid  courtesy, 
and  dramatically  proclaiming  "  Mrs.  Wofflngton's  car- 
riage waits,"  swept  down  the  steps  and  round  the  cor- 
ner, trailing  Daisy's  scarlet  shawl  majestically  behind 
her. 

"  Isn't  she  great  fun?  I  couldn't  stop  in  this  dull 
place  if  I  had  n't  that  child  to  make  it  lively  for  me. 
If  ever  she  turns  prim,  I'm  off;  so  mind  how  you 
nip  her  in  the  bud,"  said  Tedd}^  frowning  at  Demi, 
who  was  now  writing  out  short-hand  notes  on  the 
steps. 

"  You  two  are  a  team,  and  it  takes  a  strong  hand  to 
drive  3-ou,  but  I  rather  like  it.  Josie  ought  to  have 
been  my  child,  and  Rob  yours,  Meg.  Then  your  house 
would  have  been  all  peace  and  mine  all  Bedlam.  Now 
I  must  go  and  tell  Laurie  the  news,     Come  with  me, 


TEN   YEARS  LATER.  25 

Meg,  a  little  stroll  will  do  us  good ;  "  and  sticking 
Ted's  straw  hat  on  her  head,  Mrs.  Jo  walked  off  with 
her  sister,  leaving  Daisy  to  attend  to  the  muffins,  Ted 
to  appease  Josie,  and  Tom  and  Nan  to  give  their 
respective  patients  a  very  bad  quarter  of  an  hour. 


CHAPTER    H. 

PARNASSUS. 

T  T  was  well  named ;  and  the  Muses  seemed  to  be  at 
■*-  home  that  da}',  for  as  the  new-comers  went  up  the 
slope  appropriate  sights  and  sounds  greeted  them. 
Passing  an  open  window,  they  looked  in  upon  a  libraiy 
presided  over  by  Clio,  Calliope,  and  Urania ;  Mel- 
pomene and  Thalia  were  disporting  themselves  in  the 
hall,  where  some  young  people  were  dancing  and  re- 
hearsing a  play ;  Erato  was  walking  in  the  garden  with 
her  lover,  and  in  the  music-room  Phoebus  himself  was 
drilling  a  tuneful  choir. 

A  mature  Apollo  was  our  old  friend  Laurie,  but 
comely  and  genial  as  ever ;  for  time  had  ripened  the 
freakish  boy  into  a  noble  man.  Care  and  sorrow,  as 
well  as  ease  and  happiness,  had  done  much  for  him ; 
and  the  responsibility  of  carrying  out  his  grandfathers 
wishes  had  been  a  duty  most  faithfully  performed. 
Prosperity  suits  some  people,  and  the}-  blossom  best  in 
a  glow  of  sunshine ;  others  need  the  shade,  and  are  the 
sweeter  for  a  touch  of  frost.  Laurie  was  one  of  the 
former  sort,  and  Amy  was  another ;  so  life  had  been  a 
kind  of  poem  to  them  since  they  married,  —  not  only 
harmonious  and  happy,  but  earnest,  useful,  and  rich  in 
the  beautiful  benevolence  which  can  do  so  much  when 
wealth  and  wisdom  go  hand  in  hand  with  charity. 


PARNASSUS.  27 

Their  house  was  full  of  unostentatious  beauty  and 
comfort,  and  here  the  art-loving  host  and  hostess  at- 
tracted and  entertained  artists  of  all  kinds.  Laurie 
had  music  enough  now,  and  was  a  generous  patron  to 
the  class  he  most  liked  to  help.  Amy  had  her  pro- 
tegees among  ambitious  young  painters  and  sculptors, 
and  found  her  own  art  doubly  dear  as  her  daughter 
grew  old  enough  to  share  its  labors  and  delights  with 
her ;  for  she  was  one  of  those  who  prove  that  women 
can  be  faithful  wives  and  mothers  without  sacrificing 
the  special  gift  bestowed  upon  them  for  their  own  de- 
velopment and  the  good  of  others. 

Her  sisters  knew  where  to  find  her,  and  Jo  went  at 
once  to  the  studio,  where  mother  and  daughter  worked 
together.  Bess  was  busy  with  the  bust  of  a  little  child, 
while  her  mother  added  the  last  touches  to  a  fine  head 
of  her  husband.  Time  seemed  to  have  stood  still 
with  Amy,  for  happiness  had  kept  her  young  and  pros- 
perity given  her  the  culture  she  needed.  A  stately, 
graceful  woman,  who  showed  how  elegant  simplicity 
could  be  made  by  the  taste  with  which  she  chose  her 
dress  and  the  grace  with  which  she  wore  it.  As  some 
one  said,  "  I  never  know  what  Mrs.  Laurence  has  on, 
but  I  alwa}rs  receive  the  impression  that  she  is  the  best- 
dressed  lady  in  the  room." 

It  was  evident  that  she  adored  her  daughter,  and 
well  she  might ;  for  the  beauty  she  had  longed  for 
seemed,  to  her  fond  eyes  at  least,  to  be  impersonated 
in  this  younger  self.  Bess  inherited  her  mother's 
Diana-like  figure,  blue  eyes,  fair  skin,  and  golden  hair, 
tied  up  in  the  same  classic  knot  of  curls.  Also,  — 
ah !  never-ending  source  of  joy  to  Amy,  —  she  had  her 


28  JO'S  BOYS. 

father's  handsome  nose  and  mouth,  cast  in  a  feminine 
mould.  The  severe  simplicity  of  a  long  linen  pinafore 
suited  her ;  and  she  worked  away  with  the  entire 
absorption  of  the  true  artist,  unconscious  of  the  lov- 
ing eyes  upon  her,  till  Aunt  Jo  came  in  exclaiming 
eagerly,  — 

"My  dear  girls,  stop  your  mud-pies  and  hear  the 
news !  " 

Both  artists  dropped  their  tools  and  greeted  the 
irrepressible  woman  cordially,  though  genius  had  been 
burning  splendidly  and  her  coming  spoilt  a  precious 
hour.  They  were  in  the  full  tide  of  gossip  when 
Laurie,  who  had  been  summoned  by  Meg,  arrived,  and 
sitting  down  between  the  sisters,  with  no  barricade 
anywhere,  listened  with  interest  to  the  news  of  Franz 
and  Emil. 

"  The  epidemic  has  broken  out,  and  now  it  will  rage 
and  ravage  your  flock.  Be  prepared  for  every  sort  of 
romance  and  rashness  for  the  next  ten  3-ears,  Jo. 
Your  boys  are  growing  up  and  will  plunge  headlong 
into  a  sea  of  worse  scrapes  than  any  you  have  had 
yet,"  said  Laurie,  enjoying  her  look  of  mingled  delight 
and  despair. 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  pull  them 
through  and  land  them  safely;  but  it's  an  awful  re- 
sponsibility, for  they  will  come  to  me  and  insist  that  I 
can  make  their  poor  little  loves  run  smoothly.  I  like 
it,  though,  and  Meg  is  such  a  mush  of  sentiment  she 
revels  in  the  prospect,"  answered  Jo,  feeling  pretty 
easy  about  her  own  boys,  whose  youth  made  them  safe 
for  the  present. 

44 1  'm  afraid  she  won't  revel  when  our  Nat  begins  to 


PARNASSUS.  29 

buzz  too  near  her  Daisy.  Of  course  you  see  what  that 
all  means  ?  As  musical  director  I  am  also  his  confidant, 
and  would  like  to  know  what  advice  to  give,"  said 
Laurie,  soberly. 

"  Hush  !  you  forget  that  child,"  began  Jo,  nodding 
toward  Bess,  who  was  at  work  again. 

"Bless  you!  she's  in  Athens,  and  doesn't  hear  a 
word.  She  ought  to  leave  off,  though,  and  go  out. 
My  darling,  put  the  baby  to  sleep,  and  go  for  a  run. 
Aunt  Meg  is  in  the  parlor ;  go  and  show  her  the  new 
pictures  till  we  come,"  added  Laurie,  looking  at  his 
tall  girl  as  Pygmalion  might  have  looked  at  Galatea ; 
for  he  considered  her  the  finest  statue  in  the  house. 

"  Yes,  papa  ;  but  please  tell  me  if  it  is  good  ; "  and 
Bess  obediently  put  down  her  tools,  with  a  lingering 
glance  at  the  bust. 

"  My  cherished  daughter,  truth  compels  me  to  con- 
fess that  one  cheek  is  plumper  than  the  other  ;  and  the 
curls  upon  its  infant  brow  are  rather  too  much  like 
horns  for  perfect  grace ;  otherwise  it  rivals  Raphael's 
Chanting  Cherubs,  and  I  'm  proud  of  it." 

Laurie  was  laughing  as  he  spoke  ;  for  these  first  at- 
tempts were  so  like  Amy's  early  ones,  it  was  impossible 
to  regard  them  as  soberly  as  the  enthusiastic  mamma 
did. 

"  You  can't  see  beauty  in  anjTthing  but  music,"  an- 
swered Bess,  shaking  the  golden  head  that  made  the 
one  bright  spot  in  the  cool  north  lights  of  the  great 
studio. 

"Well,  I  see  beauty  in  you,  dear.  And  if  you  are 
not  art,  what  is  ?  I  wish  to  put  a  little  more  nature 
into  you,  and  get  you  away  from  this  cold  clay  and 


30  JO'S  BOYS. 

marble  into  the  sunshine,  to  dance  and  laugh  as  the 
others  do.  I  want  a  flesh-and-blood  girl,  not  a  sweet 
statue  in  a  gray  pinafore,  who  forgets  everything  but 
her  work." 

As  he  spoke  two  dusty  hands  came  round  his  neck, 
and  Bess  said  earnestly,  punctuating  her  words  with 
soft  touches  of  her  lips,  — 

' '  I  never  forget  you,  papa ;  but  I  do  want  to  do 
something  beautiful  that  you  may  be  proud  of  me  by 
and  by.  Mamma  often  tells  me  to  stop  ;  but  when  we 
get  in  here  we  forget  there  is  any  world  outside,  we  are 
so  busy  and  so  happy.  Now  I  '11  go  and  run  and  sing, 
and  be  a  girl  to  please  you."  And  throwing  away  the 
apron,  Bess  vanished  from  the  room,  seeming  to  take 
all  the  light  with  her. 

"I'm  glad  you  said  that.  The  dear  child  is  too 
much  absorbed  in  her  artistic  dreams  for  one  so  young. 
It  is  my  fault ;  but  I  sympathize  so  deeply  in  it  all,  I 
forget  to  be  wise,"  sighed  Amy,  carefully  covering  the 
bab}^  with  a  wet  towel. 

"  I  think  this  power  of  living  in  our  children  is  one 
of  the  sweetest  things  in  the  world  ;  but  I  try  to  remem- 
ber what  Marmee  once  said  to  Meg, — that  fathers 
should  have  their  share  in  the  education  of  both  girls 
and  boys ;  so  I  leave  Ted  to  his  father  all  I  can,  and 
Fritz  lends  me  Eob,  whose  quiet  waj^s  are  as  restful 
and  good  for  me  as  Ted's  tempests  are  for  his  father. 
Now  I  advise  you,  Amy,  to  let  Bess  drop  the  mud-pies 
for  a  time,  and  take  up  music  with  Laurie ;  then  she 
won't  be  one-sided,  and  he  won't  be  jealous." 

"Hear,  hear!  A  Daniel,  —  a  very  Daniel !"  cried 
Laurie,  well  pleased.     "  I  thought  you'd  lend  a  hand, 


PARNASSUS.  31 

Jo,  and  say  a  word  for  me.  I  am  a  little  jealous  of 
Amy,  and  want  more  of  a  share  in  my  girl.  Come, 
my  lady,  let  me  have  her  this  summer,  and  next  year, 
when  we  go  to  Rome,  I  '11  give  her  up  to  }~ou  and  high 
art.     Is  n't  that  a  fair  bargain  ?  " 

"  I  agree ;  but  in  trying  your  hobby,  nature,  with 
music  thrown  in,  don't  forget  that,  though  only  fifteen, 
our  Bess  is  older  than  most  girls  of  that  age,  and  can- 
not be  treated  like  a  child.  She  is  so  very  precious  to 
me,  I  feel  as  if  I  wanted  to  keep  her  always  as  pure  and 
beautiful  as  the  marble  she  loves  so  well." 

Amy  spoke  regretfully  as  she  looked  about  the  lovely 
room  where  she  had  spent  so  many  happy  hours  with 
this  dear  child  of  hers. 

"  '  Turn  and  turn  about  is  fair  play,'  as  we  used  to  say 
when  we  all  wanted  to  ride  on  Ellen  Tree  or  wear  the  rus- 
set boots,"  said  Jo,  briskly  ;  "  so  you  must  share  your 
girl  between  you,  and  see  who  will  do  the  most  for  her." 

"  We  will,"  answered  the  fond  parents,  laughing  at 
the  recollections  Jo's  proverb  brought  up  to  them. 

"  How  I  did  use  to  enjoy  bouncing  on  the  limb  of  that 
old  apple-tree !  No  real  horse  ever  gave  me  half  the 
pleasure  or  the  exercise,"  said  Anry,  looking  out  of  the 
high  window  as  if  she  saw  the  dear  old  orchard  again 
and  the  little  girls  at  play  there. 

4 'And  what  fun  I  had  with  those  blessed  boots!3' 
laughed  Jo.  "I've  got  the  relics  now.  The  boys 
reduced  them  to  rags ;  but  I  love  them  still,  and 
would  enjoy  a  good  theatrical  stalk  in  them  if  it  were 
possible." 

"  My  fondest  memories  twine  about  the  warming- 
pan  and  the  sausage.     What  larks  we  had !     And  how 


32  JO'S  BOYS. 

long  ago  it  seems ! "  said  Laurie,  staring  at  the  two 
women  before  him  as  if  he  found  it  hard  to  realize  that 
they  ever  had  been  little  Amy  and  riotous  Jo. 

"  Don't  suggest  that  we  are  growing  old,  my  lord. 
We  have  only  bloomed  ;  and  a  very  nice  bouquet  we 
make  with  our  buds  about  us,"  answered  Mrs.  Am}', 
shaking  out  the  folds  of  her  rosy  muslin  with  much  the 
air  of  dainty  satisfaction  the  girl  used  to  show  in  a  new 
dress 

"  Not  to  mention  our  thorns  and  dead  leaves,"  added 
Jo,  with  a  sigh ;  for  life  had  never  been  veiy  easy  to 
her,  and  even  now  she  had  her  troubles  both  within  and 
without. 

"Come  and  have  a  dish  of  tea,  old  dear,  and  see 
what  the  young  folks  are  about.  You  are  tired,  and 
want  to  be  '  stayed  with  flagons  and  comforted  with 
apples,' "  said  Laurie,  offering  an  arm  to  each  sister, 
and  leading  them  away  to  afternoon  tea,  which  flowed 
as  freely  on  Parnassus  as  the  nectar  of  old. 

They  found  Meg  in  the  summer-parlor,  an  airy  and 
delightful  room,  full  now  of  afternoon  sunshine  and 
the  rustle  of  trees  ;  for  the  three  long  windows  opened 
on  the  garden.  The  great  music-room  was  at  one  end, 
and  at  the  other,  in  a  deep  alcove  hung  with  purple  cur- 
tains, a  little  household  shrine  had  been  made.  Three 
portraits  hung  there,  two  marble  busts  stood  in  the 
corners,  and  a  couch,  an  oval  table,  with  its  urn  of 
flowers,  were  the  only  articles  of  furniture  the  nook  con- 
tained. The  busts  were  John  Brooke  and  Beth, — 
Amy's  work,  — both  excellent  likenesses,  and  both  full 
of  the  placid  beauty  which  always  recalls  the  saying, 
that   "  Clay  represents   life;   plaster,    death;   marble. 


PARNASSUS.  33" 

lmmortalit}"."  On  the  right,  as  became  the  ounder  of 
the  house,  hung  the  portrait  of  Mr.  Laurence,  with  its 
expression  of  mingled  pride  and  benevolence,  as  fresh 
and  attractive  as  when  he  caught  the  girl  Jo  admiring 
it.  Opposite  was  Aunt  March,  —  a  legacy  to  Amy,  — 
in  an  imposing  turban,  immense  sleeves,  and  long  mit- 
tens decorously  crossed  on  the  front  of  her  plum-colored 
satin  gown.  Time  had  mellowed  the  severity  of  her  as- 
pect ;  and  the  fixed  regard  of  the  handsome  old  gentle- 
man opposite  seemed  to  account  for  the  amiable  simper 
on  lips  that  had  not  uttered  a  sharp  word  for  years. 

In  the  place  of  honor,  with  the  sunshine  warm  upon 
it,  and  a  green  garland  alwa3Ts  round  it,  was  Marmee's 
beloved  face,  painted  with  grateful  skill  bj"  a  great  artist 
whom  she  had  befriended  when  poor  and  unknown.  So 
beautifully  lifelike  was  it  that  it  seemed  to  smile  down 
upon  her  daughters,  saying  cheerfully,  "Be  happy:  I 
am  with  you  still." 

The  three  sisters  stood  a  moment  looking  up  at  the 
beloved  picture  with  e}Tes  full  of  tender  reverence  and 
the  longing  that  never  left  them  ;  for  this  noble  mother 
had  been  so  much  to  them  that  no  one  could  ever  fill 
her  place.  Only  two  }'ears  since  she  had  gone  away  to 
live  and  love  anew,  leaving  such  a  sweet  memory  be- 
hind her  that  it  was  both  an  inspiration  and  a  comforter 
to  all  the  household.  They  felt  this  as  they  drew  closer 
to  one  another,  and  Laurie  put  it  into  words  as  he  said 
earnestly,  — 

' '  I  can  ask  nothing  better  for  my  child  than  that  she 
may  be  a  woman  like  our  mother.  Please  God,  she 
shall  be,  if  I  can  do  it ;  for  I  owe  the  best  I  have  to  this 
dear  saint." 


34  JO'S  BOYS. 

Just  then  a  fresh  voice  began  to  sing  * '  Ave  Maria  " 
in  the  music-room,  and  Bess  unconsciously  echoed  her 
father's  prayer  for  her  as  she  dutifully  obe}Ted  his  wishes. 
The  soft  sound  of  the  air  Marmee  used  to  sing  led  the 
listeners  back  into  the  world  again  from  that  momentary 
reaching  after  the  loved  and  lost,  and  they  sat  down 
together  near  the  open  windows  enjoying  the  music, 
while  Laurie  brought  them  tea,  making  the  little  service 
pleasant  by  the  tender  care  he  gave  to  it. 

Nat  came  in  with  Demi,  soon  followed  by  Ted  and 
Josie,  the  Professor  and  his  faithful  Rob,  all  anxious 
to  hear  more  about  "  the  bo}Ts."  The  rattle  of  cups 
and  tongues  grew  brisk,  and  the  setting  sun  saw  a 
cheerful  company  resting  in  the  bright  room  after  the 
varied  labors  of  the  day. 

Professor  Bhaer  was  gray  now,  but  robust  and  genial 
as  ever;  for  he  had  the  work  he  krved,  and  did  it  so 
heartily  that  the  whole  college  felt  his  beautiful  influ- 
ence. Rob  was  as  much  like  him  as  it  was  possible  for 
a  boy  to  be,  and  was  already  called  the  "young  Profes- 
sor," he  so  adored  study  and  closely  imitated  his  hon- 
ored father  in  all  wa}Ts. 

"  Well,  heart' s-dearest,  we  go  to  have  our  boys  again, 
all  two,  and  may  rejoice  greatly,"  said  Mr.  Bhaer,  seat- 
ing himself  beside  Jo  with  a  beaming  face  and  a  hand- 
shake of  congratulation. 

"  Oh,  Fritz,  I'm  so  delighted  about  Emil,  and  if  you 
approve  about  Franz  also.  Did  3^ou  know  Ludmilla? 
Is  it  a  wise  match?"  asked  Mrs.  Jo,  handing  him  her 
cup  of  tea  and  drawing  closer,  as  if  she  welcomed  her 
refuge  in  joy  as  well  as  sorrow. 

"  It  all  goes  well.     I  saw  the  Madchen  when  I  went 


PARNASSUS.  35 

over  to  place  Franz.  A  child  then,  but  most  sveet 
and  charming.  Blumenthal  is  satisfied,  I  think,  and  the 
boy  will  be  happy.  He  is  too  German  to  be  content 
away  from  Vaterland,  so  we  shall  have  him  as  a  link 
between  the  new  and  the  old,  and  that  pleases  me 
much." 

"And  Emil,  he  is  to  be  second  mate  next  voyage; 
isn't  that  fine?  I'm  so  happy  that  both  your  boys 
have  done  well ;  you  gave  up  so  much  for  them  and 
their  mother.  You  make  light  of  it,  dear,  but  I  never 
forget  it,"  said  Jo,  with  her  hand  in  his  as  sentimen- 
tally as  if  she  was  a  girl  again  and  her  Fritz  had  come 
a-wooing. 

He  laughed  his  cheery  laugh,  and  whispered  behind 
her  fan,  "  If  I  had  not  come  to  America  for  the  poor 
lads,  I  never  should  have  found  my  Jo.  The  hard  times 
are  very  sweet  now,  and  I  bless  Gott  for  all  I  seemed 
to  lose,  because  I  gained  the  blessing  of  my  life." 

"Spooning!  spooning!  Here's  an  awful  flirtation 
on  the  sly,"  cried  Tedd}^,  peering  over  the  fan  just  at 
that  interesting  moment,  much  to  his  mother's  confu- 
sion and  his  father's  amusement ;  for  the  Professor  never 
was  ashamed  of  the  fact  that  he  still  considered  his  wife 
the  dearest  woman  in  the  world.  Rob  promptly  ejected 
his  brother  from  one  window,  to  see  him  skip  in  at  the 
other,  while  Mrs.  Jo  shut  her  fan  and  held  it  ready  to 
rap  her  unruly  boy's  knuckles  if  he  came  near  her 
again. 

Nat  approached  in  answer  to  Mr.  Bhaer's  beckoning 
teaspoon,  and  stood  before  them  with  a  face  full  of  the 
respectful  affection  he  felt  for  the  excellent  man  who 
had  done  so  much  for  him. 


36  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  I  have  the  letters  ready  for  thee,  my  son.  They 
are  to  old  friends  of  mine  in  Leipsic,  who  will  befriend 
thee  in  that  new  life.  It  is  well  to  have  them,  for  thou 
wilt  be  heart-broken  with  Heimweh  at  the  first,  Nat, 
and  need  comforting,"  said  the  Professor,  giving  him 
several  letters. 

"  Thanks,  sir.  Yes,  I  expect  to  be  pretty  lonely  till 
I  get  started,  then  my  music  and  the  hope  of  getting 
on  will  cheer  me  up,"  answered  Nat,  who  both  longed 
and  dreaded  to  leave  all  these  friends  behind  him  and 
make  new  ones. 

He  was  a  man  now ;  but  the  blue  eyes  were  as  honest 
as  ever,  the  mouth  still  a  little  weak,  in  spite  of  the 
carefully  cherished  moustache  over  it,  and  the  broad 
forehead  more  plainly  than  ever  betra3Ted  the  music- 
loving  nature  of  the  youth.  Modest,  affectionate,  and 
dutiful,  Nat  was  considered  a  pleasant  though  not  a 
brilliant  success  b}^  Mrs.  Jo.  She  loved  and  trusted 
him,  and  was  sure  he  would  do  his  best,  but  did  not 
expect  that  he  would  be  great  in  any  way,  unless  the 
stimulus  of  foreign  training  and  self-dependence  made 
him  a  better  artist  and  a  stronger  man  than  now  seemed 
likely. 

"  I  've  marked  all  your  things,  —  or  rather,  Daisy  did, 
—  and  as  soon  as  your  books  are  collected,  we  can  see 
about  the  packing,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  who  was  so  used  to 
fitting  boys  off  for  all  quarters  of  the  globe  that  a  trip 
to  the  North  Pole  would  not  have  been  too  much  for 
her. 

Nat  grew  red  at  mention  of  that  name,  —  or  was  it  the 
last  glow  of  sunset  on  his  rather  pale  cheek  ?  —  and  his 
heart  beat  happily  at  the  thought  of  the  dear  girl  work- 


PARNASSUS.  37 

ing  N.'s  and  B.'s  on  his  humble  socks  and  handker- 
chiefs ;  for  Nat  adored  Daisy,  and  the  cherished  dream 
of  his  life  was  to  earn  a  place  for  himself  as  a  musician 
and  win  this  angel  for  his  wife.  This  hope  did  more 
for  him  than  the  Professor's  counsels,  Mrs.  Jo's  care? 
or  Mr.  Laurie's  generous  help.  For  her  sake  he  worked, 
waited,  and  hoped,  rinding  courage  and  patience  in  the 
dream  of  that  happy  future  when  Daisy  should  make  a 
little  home  for  him  and  he  fiddle  a  fortune  into  her  lap. 
Mrs.  Jo  knew  this ;  and  though  he  was  not  exactly 
the  man  she  would  have  chosen  for  her  niece,  she  felt 
that  Nat  would  always  need  just  the  wise  and  loving 
care  Daisy  could  give  him,  and  that  without  it  there 
was  danger  of  his  being  one  of  the  amiable  aud  aimless 
men  who  fail  for  want  of  the  right  pilot  to  steer  them 
safety  through  the  world.  Mrs.  Meg  decidedly  frowned 
upon  the  poor  boy's  love,  and  would  not  hear  of  giving 
her  dear  girl  to  any  but  the  best  man  to  be  found  on  the 
face  of  the  earth.  She  was  ver}'  kind,  but  as  firm  as 
such  gentle  souls  can  be ;  and  Nat  fled  for  comfort  to 
Mrs.  Jo,  who  always  espoused  the  interests  of  her  boys 
heartily.  A  new  set  of  anxieties  was  beginning  now 
that  the  aforesaid  boj's  were  growing  up,  and  she  fore- 
saw no  end  of  worry  as  well  as  amusement  in  the  love- 
affairs  already  budding  in  her  flock.  Mrs.  Meg  was 
usually  her  best  ally  and  adviser,  for  she  loved  ro- 
mances as  well  now  as  when  a  blooming  girl  herself. 
But  in  this  case  she  hardened  her  heart,  and  would  not 
hear  a  word  of  entreaty.  "  Nat  was  not  man  enough, 
never  would  be,  no  one  knew  his  family,  a  musician's 
life  was  a  hard  one ;  Daisy  was  too  young,  five  or  six 
years  hence  when  time  had  proved  both  perhaps.     Let 


38  JO'S  BOYS. 

us  see  what  absence  will  do  for  him/*  And  that  was 
the  end  of  it,  for  when  the  maternal  Pelican  was  roused 
she  could  be  very  firm,  though  for  her  precious  children 
she  would  have  plucked  her  last  feather  and  given  the 
last  drop  of  her  blood. 

Mrs.  Jo  was  thinking  of  this  as  she  looked  at  Nat 
while  he  talked  with  her  husband  about  Leipsic,  and  she 
resolved  to  have  a  clear  understanding  with  him  before 
he  went ;  for  she  was  used  to  confidences,  and  talked 
freely  with  her  boys  about  the  trials  and  temptations 
that  beset  all  lives  in  the  beginning,  and  so  often 
mar  them,  for  want  of  the  right  word  at  the  right 
moment. 

This  is  the  first  duty  of  parents,  and  no  false  deli- 
cacy should  keep  them  from  the  watchful  care,  the 
gentle  warning,  which  makes  self-knowledge  and  self- 
control  the  compass  and  pilot  of  the  young  as  they 
leave  the  safe  harbor  of  home. 

"  Plato  and  his  disciples  approach,"  announced  irrev- 
erent Teddy,  as  Mr.  March  came  in  with  several  j7oung 
men  and  women  about  him ;  for  the  wise  old  man 
was  universally  beloved,  and  ministered  so  beautifully 
to  his  flock  that  many  of  them  thanked  him  all  their 
lives  for  the  help  given  to  both  hearts  and  souls. 

Bess  went  to  him  at  once ;  for  since  Marmee  died, 
Grandpapa  was  her  special  care,  and  it  was  sweet  to 
see  the  golden  head  bend  over  the  silver  one  as  she 
rolled  out  his  easy  chair  and  waited  on  him  with  tender 
alacrity. 

"  Aesthetic  tea  always  on  tap  here,  sir ;  will  you  have 
a  flowing  bowl  or  a  bit  of  ambrosia?"  asked  Laurie, 
who  was  wandering  about  with  a  sugar-basin  in  one 


PARNASSUS.  39 

hand  and  a  plate  of  cake  in  the  other ;  for  sweetening 
cups  and  feeding  the  hungry  was  work  he  loved. 

"  Neither,  thanks  ;  this  child  has  taken  care  of  me  ;" 
and  Mr.  March  turned  to  Bess,  who  sat  on  one  arm  of 
his  chair,  holding  a  glass  of  fresh  milk. 

"  Long  may  she  live  to  do  it,  sir,  and  I  be  here  to  see 
this  pretty  contradiction  of  the  song  that  '  youth  and 
age  cannot  live  together ! '  "  answered  Laurie,  smiling 
at  the  pair. 

"  '  Crabbed  age,'  papa  ;  that  makes  all  the  difference 
in  the  world,"  said  Bess,  quickly ;  for  she  loved  poetry, 
and  read  the  best. 

"  Wouldst  thou  see  fresh  roses  grow 
In  a  reverend  bed  of  snow  1  " 

quoted  Mr.  March,  as  Josie  came  and  perched  on  the 
other  arm,  looking  like  a  very  thorny  little  rose  ;  for  she 
had  been  having  a  hot  discussion  with  Ted,  and  had  got 
the  worst  of  it. 

' ;  Grandpa,  must  women  always  obey  men  and  say 
they  are  the  wisest,  just  because  they  are  the  strongest  ?  " 
she  cried,  looking  fiercely  at  her  cousin,  who  came  stalk- 
ing up  with  a  provoking  smile  on  the  boyish  face  that 
was  always  very  comical  atop  of  that  tall  figure. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  that  is  the  old-fashioned  belief,  and 
it  will  take  some  time  to  change  it.  But  I  think  the 
woman's  hour  has  struck ;  and  it  looks  to  me  as  if  the 
boys  must  do  their  best,  for  tue  girls  are  abreast  now, 
and  may  reach  the  goal  first,"  answered  Mr.  March, 
surveying  with  paternal  satisfaction  the  bright  faces  of 
the  young  women,  who  were  among  the  best  students  in 
the  college. 


40  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  The  poor  little  Atalantas  are  sadly  distracted  and  de- 
layed by  the  obstacles  thrown  in  their  way,  —  not  golden 
apples,  by  any  means,  —  but  I  think  they  will  stand  a  fair 
chance  when  they  have  learned  to  run  better,"  laughed 
Uncle  Laurie,  stroking  Josie's  breezy  hair,  which  stood 
up  like  the  fur  of  an  angry  kitten. 

"  Whole  barrels  of  apples  won't  stop  me  when  I  start, 
and  a  dozen  Teds  won't  trip  me  up,  though  they  may  try. 
I  '11  show  him  that  a  woman  can  act  as  well,  if  not  bet- 
ter, than  a  man.  It  has  been  done,  and  will  be  again  ; 
and  I'll  never  own  that  my  brain  is  n't  as  good  as  his, 
though  it  may  be  smaller,"  cried  the  excited  young 
person. 

u  If  you  shake  your  head  in  that  violent  way,  you'll 
addle  what  brains  you  have  got ;  and  I  'd  take  care  of 
'em,  if  I  were  you,"  began  teasing  Ted. 

"What  started  this  civil  war?"  asked  Grandpapa, 
with  a  gentle  emphasis  on  the  adjective,  which  caused 
the  combatants  to  calm  their  ardor  a  little. 

"  Wiry,  we  were  pegging  away  at  the  Iliad  and  came 
to  where  Zeus  tells  Juno  not  to  inquire  into  his  plans 
or  he  '11  whip  her,  and  Jo  was  disgusted  because  Juno 
meekly  hushed  up.  I  said  it  was  all  right,  and  agreed 
with  the  old  fellow  that  women  did  n't  know  much  and 
ought  to  obey  men,"  explained  Ted,  to  the  great 
amusement  of  his  hearers. 

"  Goddesses  ma}7  do  as  they  like,  but  those  Greek 
and  Trojan  women  were  poor-spirited  things  if  they 
minded  men  who  could  n't  fight  their  own  battles  and 
had  to  be  hustled  off  by  Pallas,  and  Venus,  and  Juno, 
when  they  were  going  to  get  beaten.  The  idea  of  two 
armies  stopping  and  sitting  down  while  a  pair  of  heroes 


PARNASSUS.  41 

flung  stones  at  one  another !  I  don't  think  much  of  your 
old  Homer.    Give  me  Napoleon  or  Grant  for  m}-  hero." 

Josie's  scorn  was  as  funny  as  if  a  humming-bird 
scolded  at  an  ostrich,  and  every  one  laughed  as  she 
sniffed  at  the  immortal  poet  and  criticised  the  gods. 

' '  Napoleon's  Juno  had  a  nice  time ;  did  n't  she  ? 
That's  just  the  way  girls  argue, — first  one  way  and 
then  the  other,"  jeered  Ted. 

"  Like  Johnson's  young  lad}',  who  was  '  not  catego- 
rical, but  all  wiggle-waggle,' "  added  Uncle  Laurie,  en- 
joying the  battle  immensely. 

"I  was  only  speaking  of  them  as  soldiers.  But  if 
you  come  to  the  woman  side  of  it,  was  n't  Grant  a  kind 
husband  and  Mrs.  Grant  a  happy  woman?  He  did  n't 
threaten  to  whip  her  if  she  asked  a  natural  question ; 
and  if  Napoleon  did  do  wrong  about  Josephine,  he  could 
fight,  and  did  n't  want  any  Minerva  to  come  fussing 
over  him.  They  were  a  stupid  set,  from  dandified  Paris 
to  Achilles  sulking  in  his  ships,  and  I  won't  change  my 
opinion  for  all  the  Hectors  and  Agamemnons  in  Greece," 
said  Josie,  still  unconquered. 

"  You  can  fight  like  a  Trojan,  that 's  evident ;  and  we 
will  be  the  two  obedient  armies  looking  on  while  you 
and  Ted  have  it  out,"  began  Uncle  Laurie,  assuming 
the  attitude  of  a  warrior  leaning  on  his  spear. 

"  I  fear  we  must  give  it  up,  for  Pallas  is  about  to  de- 
scend and  carry  off  our  Hector,"  said  Mr.  March,  smil- 
ing, as  Jo  came  to  remind  her  son  that  supper-time 
was  near. 

"We  will  fight  it  out  later  when  there  are  no  god- 
desses to  interfere,"  said  Tedcty,  as  he  turned  awa^ 
with  unusual  alacrity,  remembering  the  treat  in  store 


42  JO'S  BOYS. 

"Conquered  by  a  muffin,  b}r  Jove!"  called  Josie 
after  him,  exulting  in  an  opportunity  to  use  the  classi- 
cal exclamation  forbidden  to  her  sex. 

But  Ted  shot  a  Parthian  arrow  as  he  retired  in  good 
order  by  repMng,  with  a  highly  virtuous  expression, 
"  Obedience  is  a  soldier's  first  duty." 

Bent  on  her  woman's  privilege  of  having  the  last 
word,  Josie  ran  after  him,  but  never  uttered  the  scath- 
ing speech  upon  her  lips,  for  a  very  brown  }'oung  man 
in  a  blue  suit  came  leaping  up  the  steps  with  a  cheery 
"  Ahoy  !  ahoy  !  where  is  every  bod}-  ?  " 

' '  Emil !  Emil ! "  cried  Josie,  and  in  a  moment  Ted 
was  upon  him,  and  the  late  enemies  ended  their  fray 
in  a  joyful  welcome  to  the  new-comer. 

Muffins  were  forgotten  ;  and  towing  their  cousin  like 
two  fussy  little  tugs  with  a  fine  merchantman,  the  chil- 
dren returned  to  the  parlor,  where  Emil  kissed  all  the 
women  and  shook  hands  with  all  men  except  his  uncle ; 
him  he  embraced  in  the  good  old  German  style,  to  the 
great  delight  of  the  observers. 

"Didn't  think  I  could  get  off  to-daj^,  but  found  I 
could,  and  steered  straight  for  old  Plum.  Not  a  soul 
there,  so  I  luffed  and  bore  away  for  Parnassus,  and  here 
is  ever}'  man  Jack  of  }tou.  Bless  }Tour  hearts,  how  glad 
I  am  to  see  3rou  all !  "  exclaimed  the  sailor  boy,  beam- 
ing at  them,  as  he  stood  with  his  legs  apart  as  if  he  still 
felt  the  rocking  deck  under  his  feet. 

"You  ought  to  '  shiver  your  timbers,'  not  '  bless  our 
hearts,'  Emil;  it's  not  nautical  at  all.  Oh,  how  nice 
and  shippy  and  tarry  you  do  smell !  "  said  Josie,  sniff- 
ing at  him  with  great  enjoyment  of  the  fresh  sea  odors 
he  brought  with  him.    This  was  her  favorite  cousin,  and 


PARNASSUS.  43 

she  was  his  pet ;  so  she  knew  that  the  bulging  pockets 
of  the  blue  jacket  contained  treasures  for  her  at  least. 

"  Avast,  my  hearty,  and  let  me  take  soundings  before 
you  dive,"  laughed  Emil,  understanding  her  affectionate 
caresses,  and  holding  her  off  with  one  hand  while  with 
the  other  he  rummaged  out  sundry  foreign  little  boxes 
and  parcels  marked  with  different  names,  and  handed 
them  round  with  appropriate  remarks,  which  caused 
much  laughter ;    for  Emil  was  a  wag. 

"  There  's  a  hawser  that  will  hold  our  little  cockboat 
still  about  five  minutes,"  he  said,  throwing  a  necklace 
of  pretty  pink  coral  over  Josie's  head ;  ' '  and  here 's 
something  the  mermaids  sent  to  Undine,"  he  added, 
handing  Bess  a  string  of  pearly  shells  on  a  silver  chain. 
"I  thought  Daisy  would  like  a  fiddle,  and  Nat  can  find 
her  a  beau"  continued  the  sailor,  with  a  laugh,  as  he 
undid  a  dainty  filagree  brooch  in  the  shape  of  a  violin. 

44 1  know  she  will,  and  I  '11  take  it  to  her,"  answered 
Nat,  as  he  vanished,  glad  of  an  errand,  and  sure  that 
Tie  could  find  Daisy  though  Emil  had  missed  her. 

Emil  chuckled,  and  handed  out  a  quaintly  carved 
bear  whose  head  opened,  showing  a  capacious  inkstand. 
This  he  presented,  with  a  scrape,  to  Aunt  Jo. 

''Knowing  your  fondness  for  these  fine  animals,  I 
brought  this  one  to  your  pen." 

"  Very  good,  Commodore  !  Try  again,"  said  Mrs. 
Jo,  much  pleased  with  her  gift,  which  caused  the  Pro- 
fessor to  prophesy  "works  of  Shakespeare"  from  its 
depths,  so  great  would  be  the  inspiration  of  the  beloved 
bruin. 

"  As  Aunt  Meg  will  wear  caps,  in  spite  of  her  youth, 
I   got  Ludmilla  to  get  me  some  bits  of  lace.     Hope 


44  JO'S  BOYS. 

you  '11  like  'em ; "  and  out  of  a  soft  paper  came  some 
filmy  things,  one  of  which  soon  lay  like  a  net  of  snow- 
flakes  on  Mrs.  Meg's  pretty  hair. 

"I  couldn't  find  anything  swell  enough  for  Aunt 
Anry,  because  she  has  everything  she  wants,  so  I 
brought  a  little  picture  that  alwaj'S  makes  me  think  of 
her  when  Bess  was  a  baby  ; "  and  he  handed  her  an 
oval  ivory  locket,  on  which  was  painted  a  golden-haired 
Madonna  with  a  rosy  child  folded  in  her  blue  mantle. 

"  How  lovely  !  "  cried  every  one  ;  and  Aunt  Amy  at 
once  hung  it  about  her  neck  on  the  blue  ribbon  from 
Bess's  hair,  charmed  with  her  gift ;  for  it  recalled  the 
happiest  year  of  her  life. 

"Now,  I  flatter  myself  I've  got  just  the  thing  for 
Nan,  neat  but  not  gaudy,  a  sort  of  sign  you  see,  and 
verjr  appropriate  for  a  doctor,"  said  Emil,  proudly  dis- 
playing a  pair  of  lava  ear-rings  shaped  like  little  skulls. 

"  Horrid  ! "  And  Bess,  who  hated  ugly  things,  turned 
her  eyes  to  her  own  pretty  shells. 

"  She  won't  wear  ear-rings,"  said  Josie. 

"  Well,  she  '11  enjoy  punching  3-our  ears  then.  She's 
never  so  happy  as  when  she 's  overhauling  her  fellow- 
creatures  and  going  for  'em  with  a  knife,"  answered 
Emil,  undisturbed.  "  I  've  got  a  lot  of  plunder  for  30U 
fellows  in  m}T  chest,  but  I  knew  I  should  have  no  peace 
till  my  cargo  for  the  girls  was  unloaded.  Now  tell  me 
all  the  news."  And,  seated  on  Amy's  best  marble- 
topped  table,  the  sailor  swung  his  legs  and  talked  at  the 
rate  of  ten  knots  an  hour,  till  Aunt  Jo  carried  them  all 
off  to  a  grand  family  tea  in  honor  of  the  Commodore. 


CHAPTER   HI, 

JO'S  LAST  SCRAPE. 

THE  March  family  had  enjoyed  a  great  many  sur- 
prises in  the  course  of  their  varied  career,  but  the 
greatest  of  all  was  when  the  Ugly  Duckling  turned  out 
to  be,  not  a  swan,  but  a  golden  goose,  whose  literary 
eggs  found  such  an  unexpected  market  that  in  ten  years 
Jo's  wildest  and  most  cherished  dream  actually  came 
true.  How  or  wiry  it  happened  she  never  clearly  under- 
stood, but  all  of  a  sudden  she  found  herself  famous  in 
a  small  wa}7,  and,  better  still,  with  a  snug  little  fortune 
in  her  pocket  to  clear  away  the  obstacles  of  the  present 
and  assure  the  future  of  her  boys. 

It  began  during  a  bad  }Tear  when  eve^hing  went 
wrong  at  Plumfield  ;  times  were  hard,  the  school  dwin- 
dled, Jo  overworked  herself  and  had  a  long  illness ; 
Laurie  and  Amy  were  abroad,  and  the  Bhaers  too 
proud  to  ask  help  even  of  those  as  near  and  dear  as 
this  generous  pair.  Confined  to  her  room,  Jo  got 
desperate  over  the  state  of  affairs,  till  she  fell  back 
upon  the  long-disused  pen  as  the  only  thing  she  could 
do  to  help  fill  up  the  gaps  in  the  income.  A  book  for 
girls  being  wanted  by  a  certain  publisher,  she  hastily 
scribbled  a  little  story  describing  a  few  scenes  and  ad- 
ventures in  the  lives  of  herself  and  sisters,  —  though 


4b  JO'S  BOYS. 

boys  were  more  in   her  line,  —  and  with  very  slight 
hopes  of  success  sent  it  out  to  seek  its  fortune. 

Things  always  went  by  contraries  with  Jo.  Her  first 
book,  labored  over  for  years,  and  launched  full  of  the 
high  hopes  and  ambitious  dreams  of  youth,  foundered 
on  its  voyage,  though  the  wreck  continued  to  float  long 
afterward,  to  the  profit  of  the  publisher  at  least.  The 
hastily  written  story,  sent  awa}~  with  no  thought  beyond 
the  few  dollars  it  might  bring,  sailed  with  a  fair  wind 
and  a  wise  pilot  at  the  helm  straight  into  public  favor, 
and  came  home  heavily  laden  with  an  unexpected  cargo 
of  gold  and  glory. 

A  more  astonished  woman  probably  never  existed 
than  Josephine  Bhaer  when  her  little  ship  came  into 
port  with  flags  flying,  cannon  that  had  been  silent  be- 
fore now  booming  gayly,  and,  better  than  all,  many  kind 
faces  rejoicing  with  her,  many  friendly  hands  grasping 
hers  with  cordial  congratulations.  After  that  it  was 
plain  sailing,  and  she  merely  had  to  load  her  ships  and 
send  them  off  on  prosperous  trips,  to  bring  home  stores 
of  comfort  for  all  she  loved  and  labored  for. 

The  fame  she  never  did  quite  accept ;  for  it  takes  very 
little  fire  to  make  a  great  deal  of  smoke  nowada}Ts,  and 
notoriet}^  is  not  real  glor}T.  The  fortune  she  could  not 
doubt,  and  gratefully  received ;  though  it  was  not  half 
so  large  a  one  as  a  generous  world  reported  it  to  be. 
The  tide  having  turned  continued  to  rise,  and  floated 
the  family  comfortably  into  a  snug  harbor  where  the 
older  members  could  rest  secure  from  storms,  and 
whence  the  }Tounger  ones  could  launch  their  boats  for 
the  vo}-age  of  life. 

All  manner  of  happiness,  peace,  and  plenty  came  in 


JO'S  LAST  SCRAPE.  47 

those  years  to  bless  the  patient  waiters,  hopeful  work- 
ers, and  devout  believers  in  the  wisdom  and  justice  of 
Him  who  sends  disappointment,  poverty,  and  sorrow  to 
try  the  love  of  human  hearts  and  make  success  the 
sweeter  when  it  comes.  The  world  saw  the  prosperity, 
and  kind  souls  rejoiced  over  the  improved  fortunes  of 
the  family ;  but  the  success  Jo  valued  most,  the  hap- 
piness that  nothing  could  change  or  take  awa}^  few 
knew  much  about. 

It  was  the  power  of  making  her  mother's  last  years 
happy  and  serene  ;  to  see  the  burden  of  care  laid  down 
forever,  the  weary  hands  at  rest,  the  dear  face  un- 
troubled by  any  anxiety,  and  the  tender  heart  free  to 
pour  itself  out  in  the  wise  charity  which  was  its  de- 
light. As  a  girl,  Jo's  favorite  plan  had  been  a  room 
where  Marmee  could  sit  in  peace  and  enjo}T  herself  after 
her  hard,  heroic  life.  Now  the  dream  had  become  a 
happy  fact,  and  Marmee  sat  in  her  pleasant  chamber 
with  every  comfort  and  luxury  about  her,  loving  daugh- 
ters to  wait  on  her  as  infirmities  increased,  a  faithful 
mate  to  lean  upon,  and  grandchildren  to  brighten  the 
twilight  of  life  with  their  dutiful  affection.  A  very 
precious  time  to  all,  for  she  rejoiced  as  only  mothers 
can  in  the  good  fortunes  of  their  children.  She  had 
lived  to  reap  the  harvest  she  sowed ;  had  seen  prayers 
answered,  hopes  blossom,  good  gifts  bear  fruit,  peace 
and  prosperity  bless  the  home  she  had  made  ;  and  then, 
like  some  brave,  patient  angel,  whose  work  was  done, 
turned  her  face  heavenward^  glad  to  rest. 

This  was  the  sweet  and  sacred  side  of  the  change ; 
but  it  had  its  droll  and  thorny  one,  as  all  things  have 
in  this  curious  world  of  ours.     After  the  first  surprise, 


48  JO'S  BOYS. 

incredulity,  and  joy,  which  came  to  Jo,  with  the  ingrat- 
itude of  human  nature,  she  soon  tired  of  renown,  and 
began  to  resent  her  loss  of  liberty.  For  suddenly  the 
admiring  public  took  possession  of  her  and  all  her 
affairs,  past,  present,  and  to  come.  Strangers  de- 
manded to  look  at  her,  question,  advise,  warn,  congrat- 
ulate, and  drive  her  out  of  her  wits  by  well-meant  but 
very  wearisome  attentions.  If  she  declined  to  open 
her  heart  to  them,  they  reproached  her ;  if  she  refused 
to  endow  pet  charities,  relieve  private  wants,  or  sj'mpa- 
thize  with  every  ill  and  trial  known  to  humanity,  she 
was  called  hard-hearted,  selfish,  and  haughty ;  if  she 
found  it  impossible  to  answer  the  piles  of  letters  sent 
her,  she  was  neglectful  of  her  duty  to  the  admiring 
public  ;  and  if  she  preferred  the  privacy  of  home  to  the 
pedestal  upon  which  she  was  requested  to  pose,  "  the 
airs  of  literary  people  "  were  freely  criticised. 

She  did  her  best  for  the  children,  they  being  the 
public  for  whom  she  wrote,  and  labored  stoutly  to  sup- 
ply the  demand  alwa3Ts  in  the  mouths  of  voracious 
youth,  —  "More  stories;  more  right  away!"  Her 
family  objected  to  this  devotion  at  their  expense,  and 
her  health  suffered  ;  but  for  a  time  she  gratefully  offered 
herself  up  on  the  altar  of  juvenile  literature,  feeling 
that  she  owed  a  good  deal  to  the  little  friends  in  whose 
sight  she  had  found  favor  after  twenty  years  of  effort. 

But  a  time  came  when  her  patience  gave  out ;  and 
wearying  of  being  a  lion,  she  became  a  bear  in  nature 
as  in  name,  and  retiring  to  her  den,  growled  awfully 
when  ordered  out.  Her  family  enjoyed  the  fun,  and 
had  small  sj'mpathy  with  her  trials,  but  Jo  came  to 
consider  it  the  worst  scrape  of  her  life  ;   for  liberty  had 


JOTS  LAST  SCRAPE.  49 

always  been  her  dearest  possession,  and  it  seemed  to 
be  fast  going  from  her.  Living  in  a  lantern  soon  loses 
its  charms,  and  she  was  too  old,  too  tired,  and  too  busy 
to  like  it.  She  felt  that  she  had  done  all  that  could 
reasonably  be  required  of  her  when  autographs,  photo- 
graphs, and  autobiographical  sketches  had  been  sown 
broadcast  over  the  land ;  when  artists  had  taken  her 
home  in  all  its  aspects,  and  reporters  had  taken  her  in 
the  grim  one  she  always  assumed  on  these  trying  occa- 
sions ;  when  a  series  of  enthusiastic  boarding-schools 
had  ravaged  her  grounds  for  trophies,  and  a  steady 
stream  of  amiable  pilgrims  had  worn  her  doorsteps 
with  their  respectful  feet ;  when  servants  left  after  a 
week's  trial  of  the  bell  that  rang  all  da}r ;  when  her  hus- 
band was  forced  to  guard  her  at  meals,  and  the  boys  to 
cover  her  retreat  out  of  back  windows  on  certain  occa- 
sions when  enterprising  guests  walked  in  unannounced 
at  unfortunate  moments. 

A  sketch  of  one  day  may  perhaps  explain  the  state 
of  things,  offer  some  excuse  for  the  unhappy  woman, 
and  give  a  hint  to  the  autograph-fiend  now  rampant  in 
the  land  ;  for  it  is  a  true  tale. 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  law  to  protect  unfortunate 
authors,"  said  Mrs.  Jo  one  morning  soon  after  Emil's 
arrival,  when  the  mail  brought  her  an  unusually  large 
and  varied  assortment  of  letters.  "Tome  it  is  a  more 
vital  subject  than  international  copyright ;  for  time  is 
mone}^,  peace  is  health,  and  I  lose  both  with  no  return 
but  less  respect  for  my  fellow-creatures  and  a  wild  de- 
sire to  fly  into  the  wilderness,  since  I  cannot  shut  my 
doors  even  in  free  America." 

"  Lion-hunters  are  awful  when  in  search  of  thei* 
4 


50  JO'S  BOYS. 

prey.  If  they  could  change  places  for  a  while  it  would 
do  them  good ;  and  they  'd  see  what  bores  they  were 
when  they  '  do  themselves  the  honor  of  calling  to 
express  their  admiration  of  our  charming  work,' " 
quoted  Ted,  with  a  bow  to  his  parent,  now  frowning 
over  twelve  requests  for  autographs. 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind  on  one  point,"  said  Mrs. 
Jo  with  great  firmness.  "  I  will  not  answer  this  kind 
of  letter.  I  've  sent  at  least  six  to  this  boy,  and  he 
probably  sells  them.  This  girl  writes  from  a  seminary, 
and  if  I  send  her  one  all  the  other  girls  will  at  once 
write  for  more.  All  begin  b}7  sa3'ing  they  know  they 
intrude,  and  that  I  am  of  course  annoyed  b}T  these  re- 
auests  ;  but  they  venture  to  ask  because  I  like  boys,  or 
they  like  the  books,  or  it  is  only  one.  Emerson  and 
Whittier  put  these  things  in  the  waste-paper  basket; 
and  though  only  a  literary  nursery-maid  who  provides 
moral  pap  for  the  young,  I  will  follow  their  illustrious 
example ;  for  I  shall  have  no  time  to  eat  or  sleep  if 
I  try  to  satisfy  these  dear  unreasonable  children ;  " 
and  Mrs.  Jo  swept  away  the  entire  batch  with  a  sigh 
©f  relief. 

66 1 11  open  the  others  and  let  you  eat  your  breakfast 
in  peace,  Hebe  Mutter"  said  Rob,  who  often  acted  as 
her  secretary.  "Here's  one  from  the  South;"  and 
breaking  an  imposing  seal,  he  read :  — 

Madam,  —As  it  has  pleased  Heaven  to  bless  your  efforts 
wit"h  a  large  fortune,  I  feel  no  hesitation  in  asking  you  to 
supply  funds  to  purchase  a  new  communion-service  for  our 
church.  To  whatever  denomination  you  belong,  you  will  of 
course  respond  with  liberality  to  such  a  request. 

Respectfully  yours,  Mrs.  X.  Y.  Zavikr. 


JO'S  LAST  SCRAPE.  51 

*c  Send  a  civil  refusal,  dear.  All  I  have  to  give 
must  go  to  feed  and  clothe  the  poor  at  my  gates. 
That  is  my  thank-offering  for  success.  Go  on,"  an- 
swered his  mother,  with  a  grateful  glance  about  her 
happy  home. 

"  A  literarj7  jonth  of  eighteen  proposes  that  you  put 
your  name  to  a  novel  he  has  written  ;  and  after  the  first 
edition  your  name  is  to  be  taken  off  and  his  put  on. 
There  's  a  cool  proposal  for  you.  I  guess  you  won't 
agree  to  that,  in  spite  of  }7our  soft-heartedness  towards 
most  of  the  young  scribblers." 

"  Could  n't  be  done.  Tell  him  so  kindly,  and  don't 
let  him  send  the  manuscript.  I  have  seven  on  hand 
now,  and  barely  time  to  read  my  own,"  said  Mrs.  Jo, 
pensively  fishing  a  small  letter  out  of  the  slop-bowl  and 
opening  it  with  care,  because  the  down-hill  address 
suggested  that  a  child  wrote  it. 

"  I  will  answer  this  myself.  A  little  sick  girl  wants 
a  book,  and  she  shall  have  it,  but  I  can't  write  sequels 
to  all  the  rest  to  please  her.  I  should  never  come  to  an 
end  if  I  tried  to  suit  these  voracious  little  Oliver  Twists, 
clamoring  for  more.     What  next,  Robin?" 

"  This  is  short  and  sweet." 

Dear  Mrs.  Bhaer,  —  I  am  now  going  to  give  you  my 
opinion  of  your  works.  I  have  read  them  all  many  times, 
and  call  them  first-rate.     Please  go  ahead. 

Your  admirer,  Billy  Babcock. 

"  Now  that  is  what  I  like.  Bill}7  is  a  man  of  sense 
and  a  critic  worth  having,  since  he  has  read  my  works 
man}7  times  before  expressing  his  opinion.  He  asks  fof 
no  answer,  so  send  my  thanks  and  regards." 


52  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  Here's  a  lady  in  England  with  seven  girls,  and  she 
wishes  to  know  your  views  upon  education.  Also  what 
careers  they  shall  follow,  —  the  oldest  being  twelve. 
Don't  wonder  she  's  worried,"  laughed  Rob. 

"I'll  try  to  answer  it.  But  as  I  have  no  girls,  my 
opinion  is  n't  worth  much  and  will  probably  shock  her, 
as  I  shall  tell  her  to  let  them  run  and  play  and  build 
up  good,  stout  bodies  before  she  talks  about  careers. 
They  will  soon  show  what  they  want,  if  they  are  let 
alone,  and  not  all  run  in  the  same  mould. " 

' '  Here '«  a  fellow  who  wants  to  know  what  sort  of  a 
girl  he  shall  many,  and  if  you  know  of  anj~  like  those 
in  your  stories." 

"  Give  him  Nan's  address,  and  see  what  he'll  get," 
proposed  Ted,  privately  resolving  to  do  it  himself  if 
possible. 

"  This  is  from  a  lady  who  wants  you  to  adopt  her 
child  and  lend  her  money  to  study  art  abroad  for  a  few 
years.  Better  take  it,  and  try  your  hand  at  a  girl, 
mother." 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  will  keep  to  my  own  line  of  busi- 
ness. What  is  that  blotted  one  ?  It  looks  rather  awful, 
to  judge  by  the  ink,"  asked  Mrs.  Jo,  who  beguiled  her 
daity  task  b}T  trying  to  guess  from  the  outside  what  was 
inside  her  many  letters.  This  proved  to  be  a  poem 
from  an  insane  admirer,  to  judge  by  its  incoherent 
-tyle. 

To  J.  M.  B. 

*  Oh,  were  I  a  heliotrope, 
I  would  play  poet, 
And  blow  a  breeze  of  fragrance 
To  you ;  and  none  should  know  it. 


JO'S  LAST  SCRAPE.  53 

*•  Your  form  like  the  stately  elm 

When  Phoebus  gilds  the  morning  ray; 
Your  cheeks  like  the  ocean  bed 
That  blooms  a  rose  in  May. 

"  Your  words  are  wise  and  bright, 

I  bequeath  them  to  you  a  legacy  given ; 
And  when  your  spirit  takes  its  flight, 
May  it  bloom  a  flower  in  heaven. 

"  My  tongue  in  flattering  language  spoke, 
And  sweeter  silence  never  broke 
In  busiest  street  or  loneliest  glen. 
I  take  you  with  the  flashes  of  my  pen. 

"  Consider  the  lilies,  how  they  grow ; 
They  toil  not,  yet  are  fair, 
Gems  and  flowers  and  Solomon's  seal. 

The  geranium  of  the  world  is  J.  M  Bhaer. 

"  James." 

While  the  boys  shouted  over  this  effusion,  —  which  is 
a  true  one,  —  their  mother  read  several  liberal  offers 
from  budding  magazines  for  her  to  edit  them  gratis  ;  one 
long  letter  from  a  young  girl  inconsolable  because  her 
favorite  hero  died,  and  ' '  would  dear  Mrs.  Bhaer  rewrite 
the  tale,  and  make  it  end  good?  "  another  from  an  irate 
boy  denied  an  autograph,  who  darkly  foretold  financial 
ruin  and  loss  of  favor  if  she  did  not  send  him  and  all 
other  fellows  who  asked  autographs,  photographs,  and 
autobiographical  sketches ;  a  minister  wished  to  know 
her  religion ;  and  an  undecided  maiden  asked  which  of 
her  two  lovers  she  should  marry.  These  samples  will 
suffice  to  show  a  few  of  the  claims  made  on  a  busy 
woman's  time,  and  make  my  readers  pardon  Mrs.  Jo  if 
she  did  not  carefully  reply  to  all. 


54  JO'S  BOYS. 

"That  job  is  done.  Now  I  will  dust  a  bit,  and  then 
go  to  my  work.  I'm  all  behindhand,  and  serials  can't 
wait ;  so  deny  me  to  ever}Tbody,  Mary.  I  won't  see 
Queen  Victoria  if  she  comes  to-day."  And  Mrs.  Bhaer 
threw  down  her  napkin  as  if  defying  all  creation. 

"  I  hope  the  day  will  go  well  with  thee,  my  dearest," 
answered  her  husband,  who  had  been  busy  with  his  own 
voluminous  correspondence.  "  I  will  dine  at  college 
with  Professor  Plock,  who  is  to  visit  us  to-day.  The 
Junglings  can  lunch  on  Parnassus  ;  so  thou  shalt  have  a 
quiet  time."  And  smoothing  the  worried  lines  out  of 
her  forehead  with  his  good-by  kiss,  the  excellent  man 
marched  away,  both  pockets  full  of  books,  an  old  um- 
brella in  one  hand,  and  a  bag  of  stones  for  the  geology 
class  in  the  other. 

"  If  all  literary  women  had  such  thoughtful  angels  for 
husbands,  they  would  live  longer  and  write  more.  Per- 
haps that  would  n't  be  a  blessing  to  the  world  though,  as 
most  of  us  write  too  much  now,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  waving 
her  feather  duster  to  her  spouse,  who  responded  with 
flourishes  of  the  umbrella  as  he  went  down  the  avenue. 

Rob  started  for  school  at  the  same  time,  looking  so 
much  like  him  with  his  books  and  bag  and  square  shoul- 
ders and  steady  air  that  his  mother  laughed  as  she 
turned  away,  saying  heartily,  "  Bless  both  my  dear  pro- 
fessors, for  better  creatures  never  lived  !  " 

Emil  was  already  gone  to  his  ship  in  the  city ;  but 
Ted  lingered  to  steal  the  address  he  wanted,  ravage  the 
sugar-bowl,  and  talk  with  "  Mum ; "  for  the  two  had 
great  larks  together. 

Mrs.  Jo  alwa}'s  arranged  her  own  parlor,  refilled  her 
vases,  and  gave  the  little  touches  that  left  it  cool  and 


SO'S  LAST  SCRAPE.  55 

neat  for  the  day.  Going  to  draw  down  the  curtain,  she 
beheld  an  artist  sketching  on  the  lawn,  and  groaned  as 
she  hastily  retired  to  the  back  window  to  shake  her 
duster. 

At  that  moment  the  bell  rang  and  the  sound  of  wheels 
was  heard  in  the  road. 

"  I  '11  go  ;  Mary  lets  'em  in  ; "  and  Ted  smoothed  his 
hair  as  he  made  for  the  hall. 

"  Can't  see  any  one.  Give  me  a  chance  to  fly  up- 
stairs," whispered  Mrs.  Jo,  preparing  to  escape.  But 
before  she  could  do  so,  a  man  appeared  at  the  door  with 
a  card  in  his  hand.  Ted  met  him  with  a  stern  air,  and 
his  mother  dodged  behind  the  window-curtains  to  bide 
her  time  for  escape. 

"lam  doing  a  series  of  articles  for  the  '  Saturday 
Tattler,'  and  I  called  to  see  Mrs.  Bhaer  the  first  of  all," 
began  the  new-comer  in  the  insinuating  tone  of  his  tribe, 
while  his  quick  eyes  were  taking  in  all  they  could,  ex- 
perience having  taught  him  to  make  the  most  of  his 
time,  as  his  visits  were  usually  short  ones. 

"  Mrs.  Bhaer  never  sees  reporters,  sir." 

' '  But  a  few  moments  will  be  all  I  ask,"  said  the  man, 
edging  his  way  further  in. 

"  You  can't  see  her,  for  she  is  out,"  replied  Teddy, 
as  a  backward  glance  showed  him  that  his  unhappy 
parent  had  vanished,  —  through  the  window,  he  sup- 
posed, as  she  sometimes  did  when  hard  bestead. 

"Very  sorry.  I'll  call  again.  Is  this  her  study? 
Charming  room !  "  And  the  intruder  fell  back  on  the 
parlor,  bound  to  see  something  and  bag  a  fact  if  he 
died  in  the  attempt. 

"It  is  not,"  said  Teddy,  gently  but  firmly  backing 


56  JO'S  BOYS. 

him  down  the  hall,  devoutly  hoping  that  his  mothet 
had  escaped  round  the  corner  of  the  house. 

"  If  you  could  tell  me  Mrs.  Bhaer's  age  and  birth- 
place, date  of  marriage,  and  number  of  children,  I 
should  be  much  obliged,"  continued  the  unabashed  visi- 
tor as  he  tripped  over  the  door-mat. 

"  She  is  about  sixty,  born  in  Nova  Zembla,  married 
just  forty  years  ago  to-day,  and  has  eleven  daughters. 
Anything  else,  sir?  "  And  Ted's  sober  face  was  such  a 
funny  contrast  to  his  ridiculous  reply  that  the  reporter 
owned  himself  routed,  and  retired  laughing  just  as  a 
lady  followed  by  three  beaming  girls  came  up  the 
steps. 

"  We  are  all  the  way  from  Oshkosh,  and  couldn't  go 
home  without  seein'  dear  Aunt  Jo.  My  girls  just  ad- 
mire her  works,  and  lot  on  gettin'  a  sight  of  her.  I  know 
it  's  early ;  but  we  are  goin'  to  see  Holmes  and  Long- 
feller,  and  the  rest  of  the  celebrities,  so  we  ran  out 
here  fust  thing.  Mrs.  Erastus  Kingsbury  Parmalee, 
of  Oshkosh,  tell  her.  We  don't  mind  waitin' ;  we 
can  look  round  a  spell  if  she  ain't  ready  to  see  folks 
yet." 

All  this  was  uttered  with  such  rapidity  that  Ted 
could  only  stand  gazing  at  the  buxom  damsels,  who 
fixed  their  six  blue  e}Tes  upon  him  so  beseeching^  that 
his  native  gallantry  made  it  impossible  to  deny  them  a 
civil  reply  at  least. 

"  Mrs.  Bhaer  is  not  visible  to-day,  —  out  just  now,  I 
believe ;  but  you  can  see  the  house  and  grounds  if  you 
like,"  he  murmured,  falling  back  as  the  four  pressed  in 
gazing  rapturously  about  them. 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !      Sweet,  pretty  place  1  'm  sure ! 


JO'S  LAST  SCRAPE,  57 

That's  where  she  writes,  ain't  it?  Do  tell  me  if  that's 
her  picture  !     Looks  just  as  I  imagined  her  !  " 

With  these  remarks  the  ladies  paused  before  a  fine 
engraving  of  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Norton,  with  a  pen  in  her 
hand  and  a  rapt  expression  of  countenance,  likewise  a 
diadem  and  pearl  necklace. 

Keeping  his  gravity  with  an  effort,  Teddy  pointed  to 
a  very  bad  portrait  of  Mrs.  Jo,  which  hung  behind 
the  door,  and  afforded  her  much  amusement,  it  was  so 
dismal,  in  spite  of  a  curious  effect  of  light  upon  the  end 
of  the  nose  and  cheeks  as  red  as  the  chair  she  sat  in. 

"  This  was  taken  for  my  mother ;  but  it  is  not  very 
good,"  he  said,  enjoying  the  struggles  of  the  girls  not  to 
look  dismayed  at  the  sad  difference  between  the  real 
and  the  ideal.  The  youngest,  aged  twelve,  could  not 
conceal  her  disappointment,  and  turned  away,  feeling 
as  so  man}7  of  us  have  felt  when  we  discover  that  our 
idols  are  very  ordinary  men  and  women. 

"  I  thought  she  'd  be  about  sixteen  and  have  her  hair 
braided  in  two  tails  down  her  back.  I  don't  care  about 
seeing  her  now,"  said  the  honest  child  walking  off  to  the 
hall  door,  leaving  her  mother  to  apologize,  and  her  sis- 
ters to  declare  that  the  bad  portrait  was  "  perfectly 
lovely,  so  speaking  and  poetic,  you  know,  'specially 
about  the  brow." 

"Come,  girls,  we  must  be  goin',  if  we  want  to  get 
through  to-day.  You  can  leave  your  albums  and  have 
them  sent  when  Mrs.  Bhaer  has  written  a  sentiment  in 
'em.  We  are  a  thousand  times  obliged.  Give  our  best 
love  to  your  ma,  and  tell  her  we  are  so  sorry  not  to  see 
her." 

Just  as  Mrs.   Erastus  Kingsbury  Parmalee  uttered 


58  JO'S  BOYS. 

the  words  her  eye  fell  upon  a  middle-aged  woman  in  a 
large  checked  apron,  with  a  handkerchief  tied  over  her 
head,  busily  dusting  an  end  room  which  looked  like  a 
study. 

"  One  peep  at  her  sanctum  since  she  is  out,"  cried 
the  enthusiastic  lady,  and  swept  across  the  hall  with  her 
flock  before  Teddy  could  warn  his  mother,  whose  retreat 
had  been  cut  off  bj^  the  artist  in  front,  the  reporter  at 
the  back  part  of  the  house,  —  for  he  had  n't  gone,  — 
and  the  ladies  in  the  hall. 

' '  The}T  've  got  her  !  "  thought  Teddy,  in  comical  dis- 
may. ' '  No  use  for  her  to  pla}7  housemaid  since  they  've 
seen  the  portrait." 

Mrs.  Jo  did  her  best,  and  being  a  good  actress,  would 
have  escaped  if  the  fatal  picture  had  not  betrayed  her. 
Mrs.  Parmalee  paused  at  the  desk,  and  regardless  of  the 
meerschaum  that  lay  there,  the  man's  slippers  close  03^, 
and  a  pile  of  letters  directed  to  "Prof.  F.  Bhaer,"  she 
clasped  her  hands,  exclaiming  impressively,  "  Girls, 
this  is  the  spot  where  she  wrote  those  sweet,  those  moral 
tales  which  have  thrilled  us  to  the  soul !  Could  I  —  ah, 
could  I  take  one  morsel  of  paper,  an  old  pen,  a  postage 
stamp  even,  as  a  memento  of  this  gifted  woman?" 

"  Yes 'in,  help  yourselves,"  replied  the  maid,  moving 
away  with  a  glance  at  the  boy  whose  e}res  were  now  full 
of  a  merriment  he  could  not  suppress. 

The  oldest  girl  saw  it,  guessed  the  truth,  and  a  quick 
look  at  the  woman  in  the  apron  confirmed  her  suspicion. 
Touching  her  mother,  she  whispered,  "Ma,  it's  Mrs. 
Bhaer  herself.     I  know  it  is." 

"  No?  yes?  it  is  !  Well,  I  do  declare,  how  nice  that 
is  ! "    And  hastily  pursuing  the  unhappy  woman,  who 


JO'S  LAST  SCRAPE  59 

was  making  for  the  door,  Mrs.  Parmalee  cried  eagerly, 
"  Don't  mind  us  !  I  know  you  're  busy,  but  just  let  me 
take  your  hand  and  then  we  '11  go." 

Giving  herself  up  for  lost,  Mrs.  Jo  turned  and  pre- 
sented her  hand  like  a  tea-traj^  submitting  to  have  it 
heartily  shaken,  as  the  matron  said,  with  somewhat 
alarming  hospitality,  — 

"  If  ever  you  come  to  Oshkosh,  your  feet  won't  be  al- 
lowed to  touch  the  pavement ;  for  you  '11  be  borne  in  the 
arms  of  the  populace,  we  shall  be  so  dreadful  glad'to 
see  you." 

Mentally  resolving  never  to  visit  that  effusive  town, 
Jo  responded  as  cordially  as  she  could  ;  and  having 
written  her  name  in  the  albums,  provided  each  visitor 
with  a  memento,  and  kissed  them  all  round,  they  at  last 
departed,  to  call  on  u  Longfeller,  Holmes,  and  the  rest," 
—  who  were  all  out,  it  is  devoutly  to  be  hoped. 

i '  You  villain,  why  didn't  you  give  me  a  chance  to 
whip  away?  Oh,  my  dear,  what  fibs  you  told  that  man  ! 
I  hope  we  shall  be  forgiven  our  sins  in  this  line,  but  I 
don't  know  what  is  to  become  of  us  if  we  don't  dodge. 
So  man}^  against  one  is  n't  fair  play."  And  Mrs.  Jo 
hung  up  her  apron  in  the  hall  closet,  with  a  groan  at  the 
trials  of  her  lot. 

"  More  people  coming  up  the  avenue  !  Better  dodge 
while  the  coast  is  clear !  I  '11  head  them  off ! "  cried 
Teddy,  looking  back  from  the  steps,  as  he  was  depart- 
ing to  school. 

Mrs.  Jo  flew  upstairs,  and  having  locked  her  door, 
calmly  viewed  a  young  ladies'  seminary  camp  on  the 
lawn,  and  being  denied  the  house,  proceed  to  enjoj 
themselves  by  picking  the  flowers,  doing  up  their  hair, 


60  JO'S  BOYS. 

eating  lunch,  and  freely  expressing  their  opinion  of  the 
place  and  its  possessors  before  they  went. 

A  few  hours  of  quiet  followed,  and  she  was  just  set- 
tling down  to  a  long  afternoon  of  hard  work,  when  Rob 
came  home  to  tell  her  that  the  Young  Men's  Christian 
Onion  would  visit  the  college,  and  two  or  three  of  the 
fellows  whom  she  knew  wanted  to  pay  their  respects  to 
her  on  the  way. 

"  It  is  going  to  rain,  so  the}'  won't  come,  I  dare  say ; 
but  father  thought  you  'd  like  to  be  ready,  in  case  they 
do  call.  You  always  see  the  boys,  you  know,  though 
you  harden  your  heart  to  the  poor  girls,"  said  Rob, 
who  had  heard  from  his  brother  about  the  morning 
visitations. 

"  Boys  don't  gush,  so  I  can  stand  it.  The  last  time 
I  let  in  a  party  of  girls,  one  fell  into  my  arms  and  said, 
4  Darling,  love  me  ! '  I  wanted  to  shake  her,"  answered 
Mrs.  Jo,  wiping  her  pen  with  energy. 

"  You  may  be  sure  the  fellows  won't  do  it,  but  they 
will  want  autographs,  so  you  'd  better  be  prepared  with 
a  few  dozen,"  said  Rob,  laying  out  a  quire  of  note- 
paper,  being  a  hospitable  youth  and  sympathizing  with 
those  who  admired  his  mother. 

"  The}7  CMi't  outdo  the  girls.  At  X  College  I  really 
believe  I  wrote  three  hundred  during  the  day  I  was  there, 
and  I  left  a  pile  of  cards  and  albums  on  my  table  when 
I  came  away.  It  is  one  of  the  most  absurd  and  tiresome 
manias  that  ever  afflicted  the  world." 

Nevertheless  Mrs.  Jo  wrote  her  name  a  dozen  times, 
put  on  her  black  silk,  and  resigned  herself  to  the  im- 
pending call,  praying  for  rain,  however,  as  she  returned 
to  her  work. 


JO'S  LAST  SCRAPE.  61 

The  shower  came,  and  feeling  quite  secure,  she  rum- 
pled up  her  hair,  took  off  her  cuffs,  and  hurried  to 
finish  her  chapter ;  for  thirty  pages  a  day  was  her  task, 
and  she  liked  to  have  it  well  done  before  evening. 
Josie  had  brought  some  flowers  for  the  vases,  and  was 
just  putting  the  last  touches  when  she  saw  several 
umbrellas  bobbing  down  the  hill. 

"They  are  coming,  Aunty!  I  see  uncle  hurrying 
across  the  field  to  receive  them,"  she  called  at  the  stair- 
foot. 

"  Keep  an  eye  on  them,  and  let  me  know  when 
they  enter  the  avenue.  It  will  take  but  a  minute  to 
tidy  up  and  run  down,"  answered  Mrs.  Jo,  scribbling 
away  for  dear  life,  because  serials  wait  for  no  man,  not 
even  the  whole  Christian  Union  en  masse. 

"There  are  more  than  two  or  three.  I  see  half  a 
dozen  at  least,"  called  sister  Ann  from  the  hall  door. 
"No!  a  dozen,  I  do  believe;  Aunty,  look  out;  they 
are  all  coming !  What  shall  we  do  ? "  And  Josie 
quailed  at  the  idea  of  facing  the  black  throng  rapidly 
approaching. 

"  Mercy  on  us,  there  are  hundreds  !  Run  and  put  a 
tub  in  the  back  entr}T  for  their  umbrellas  to  drip  into. 
Tell  them  to  go  down  the  hall  and  leave  them,  and  pile 
their  hats  on  the  table ;  the  tree  won't  hold  them  all. 
No  use  to  get  mats ;  my  poor  carpets ! "  And  down 
went  Mrs.  Jo  to  prepare  for  the  invasion,  while  Josie 
and  the  maids  flew  about  dismayed  at  the  prospect  of 
so  many  muddy  boots. 

On  they  came,  a  long  line  of  umbrellas,  with  splashed 
legs  and  flushed  faces  underneath ;  for  the  gentlemen 
had  been  having  a  good  time  all  over  the  town,  undis* 


62  JO'S  BOYS. 

turbed  t>y  the  rain.  Professor  Bhaer  met  them  at  the 
gate,  and  was  making  a  little  speech  of  welcome,  when 
Mrs.  Jo,  touched  by  their  bedraggled  state,  appeared  at 
the  door,  beckoning  them  in.  Leaving  their  host  to 
orate  bareheaded  in  the  wet,  the  young  men  hastened 
up  the  steps,  merry,  warm,  and  eager,  clutching  off  their 
hats  as  they  came,  and  struggling  with  their  umbrellas, 
as  the  order  was  passed  to  march  in  and  stack  arms. 

Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  down  the  hall  went  seventy- 
five  pairs  of  boots  ;  soon  seventj-five  umbrellas  dripped 
sociably  in  the  hospitable  tub,  while  their  owners 
swarmed  all  over  the  lower  part  of  the  house ;  and 
seventy-five  hearty  hands  were  shaken  by  the  hostess 
without  a  murmur,  though  some  were  wet,  some  very 
warm,  and  nearly  all  bore  trophies  of  the  day's  ram- 
ble. One  impetuous  party  flourished  a  small  turtle  as 
he  made  his  compliments  ;  another  had  a  load  of  sticks 
cut  from  noted  spots  ;  and  all  begged  for  some  memento 
of  Plumfield.  A  pile  of  cards  mysteriously  appeared 
on  the  table,  with  a  written  request  for  autographs  ;  and 
despite  her  morning  vow,  Mrs.  Jo  wrote  every  one, 
while  her  husband  and  boj's  did  the  honors  of  the 
house. 

Josie  fled  to  the  back  parlor,  but  was  discovered 
by  exploring  youths,  and  mortally  insulted  b}^  one  of 
them,  who  innocently  inquired  if  she  was  Mrs.  Bhaer. 
The  reception  did  not  last  long,  and  the  end  was  better 
than  the  beginning ;  for  the  rain  ceased,  and  a  rainbow 
shone  beautifully  over  them  as  the  good  fellows  stood 
upon  the  lawn  singing  sweetly  for  a  farewell.  A  happy 
omen,  that  bow  of  promise  arched  over  the  }Toung  heads, 
as  if  Heaven  smiled  upon  their  union,  and  showed  them 


JO'S  LAST  SCRAPE.  63 

that  above  the  muddy  earth  and  rainy  skies  the  blessed 
sun  still  shone  for  all. 

/Three  cheers,  and  then  away  they  went,  leaving  a 
pleasant  recollection  of  their  visit  to  amuse  the  family 
as  they  scraped  the  mud  off  the  carpets  with  shovels 
and  emptied  the  tub  half-full  of  water. 

44  Nice,  honest,  hard-working  fellows,  and  I  don't  be- 
grudge my  half-hour  at  all ;  but  I  must  finish,  so  don't 
let  any  one  disturb  me  till  tea-time,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  leav- 
ing Mary  to  shut  up  the  house  ;  for  papa  and  the  boys 
had  gone  off  with  the  guests,  and  Josie  had  run  home  to 
tell  her  mother  about  the  fun  at  Aunt  Jo's. 

Peace  reigned  for  an  hour,  then  the  bell  rang  and  Mary 
came  giggling  up  to  say,  "  A  queer  kind  of  a  lady  wants 
to  know  if  she  can  catch  a  grasshopper  in  the  garden." 

44  A  what?"  cried  Mrs.  Jo,  dropping  her  pen  with  a 
blot ;  for  of  all  the  odd  requests  ever  made,  this  was  the 
oddest. 

"  A  grasshopper,  ma'am.  I  said  you  was  busy,  and 
asked  what  she  wanted,  and  says  she,  'I've  got 
grasshoppers  from  the  grounds  of  several  famous  folks, 
and  I  want  one  from  Plumfield  to  add  to  my  collec- 
tion. Did  you  ever?  "  And  Mary  giggled  again  at  the 
idea. 

44  Tell  her  to  take  all  there  are  and  welcome.  I  shall 
be  glad  to  get  rid  of  them  ;  alwa}Ts  bouncing  in  my  face 
and  getting  in  my  dress,"  laughed  Mrs.  Jo. 

Mary  retired,  to  return  in  a  moment  nearly  speech- 
less with  merriment. 

44  She's  much  obliged,  ma'am,  and  she'd  like  an  old 
gown  or  a  pair  of  stockings  of  yours  to  put  in  a  rug 
she 's  makingc     Got  a  vest  of  Emerson's,  she  says,  and 


64  JO'S  BOYS. 

a  pair  of  Mr.  Holmes's  trousers,  and  a  dress  of  Mrs. 
Stowe's.     She  must  be  crazy  !  " 

"  Give  her  that  old  red  shawl,  then  1  shall  make  a 
gay  show  among  the  great  ones  in  that  astonishing 
rug.  Yes,  they  are  all  lunatics,  these  lion-hunters  ;  but 
this  seems  to  be  a  harmless  maniac,  for  she  does  n't 
take  my  time  and  gives  me  a  good  laugh,"  said  Mrs. 
Jo,  returning  to  her  work  after  a  glance  from  the  win- 
dow, which  showed  her  a  tall,  thin  lady  in  rusty  black, 
skipping  wildly  to  and  fro  on  the  lawn  in  pursuit  of  the 
lively  insect  she  wanted. 

No  more  interruptions  till  the  light  began  to  fade, 
then  Mary  popped  her  head  in  to  say  a  gentleman 
wished  to  see  Mrs.  Bhaer,  and  would  n't  take  no  for  an 
answer. 

"  He  must.  I  shall  not  go  down.  This  has  been  an 
awful  day,  and  I  won't  be  disturbed  again,"  replied  the 
harassed  authoress,  pausing  in  the  midst  of  the  grand 
finale  of  her  chapter. 

"I  told  him  so,  ma'am;  but  he  walked  right  in  as 
bold  as  brass.  I  guess  he 's  another  crazy  one,  and  I 
declare  I'm  'most  afraid  of  him,  he's  so  big  and  black, 
and  cool  as  cucumbers,  though  I  will  say  he  's  good- 
looking,"  added  Mary,  with  a  simper ;  for  the  stranger 
had  evidently  found  favor  in  her  sight  despite  his 
boldness. 

"  My  day  has  been  ruined,  and  I  will  have  this  last 
half-hour  to  finish.  Tell  him  to  go  away ;  I  wont  go 
down,"  cried  Mrs.  Jo,  fiercely. 

Mary  went ;  and  listening,  in  spite  of  herself,  her  mis- 
tress heard  first  a  murmur  of  voices,  then  a  cry  from 
Mary,  and   remembering  the  ways  of  reporters,   also 


JO'S  LAST  SCRAPE.  65 

that  her  maid  was  both  pretty  and  timid,  Mrs.  Bhaer 
flung  clown  her  pen  and  went  to  the  rescue.  Descend- 
ing with  her  most  majestic  air  she  demanded  in  an  awe- 
inspiring  voice,  as  she  paused  to  survey  the  somewhat 
brigandish  intruder  who  seemed  to  be  storming  the  stair- 
case which  Mary  was  gallantly  defending,  — 

"  Who  is  this  person  who  insists  on  remaining  when  I 
have  declined  to  see  him  ?  " 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  ma'am.  He  won't  give  no 
name,  and  says  you  '11  be  sorry  if  you  don't  see  him," 
answered  Mary,  retiring  flushed  and  indignant  from  her 
post. 

"  Won't  j'ou  be  sony?"  asked  the  stranger,  looking 
up  with  a  pair  of  black  e3xes  full  of  laughter,  the  flash 
of  white  teeth  through  a  long  beard,  and  both  hands 
out  as  he  boldly  approached  the  irate  lady. 

Mrs.  Jo  gave  one  keen  look,  for  the  voice  was  famil- 
iar; then  completed  Mary's  bewilderment  by  throw- 
ing both  arms  round  the  brigand's  neck,  exclaiming 
]03Tfull}T,  "  My  dearest  boy,  where  did  you  come  from?" 

"California,  on  purpose  to  see  you,  Mother  Bhaer. 
Now  won't  you  be  sorry  if  I  go  away?  "  answered  Dan, 
with  a  hearty  kiss. 

"  To  think  of  my  ordering  jtou  out  of  the  house  when 
I've  been  longing  to  see  you  for  a  year,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Jo,  as  she  went  down  to  have  a  good  talk  with  her  re- 
turned wanderer,  who  enjoyed  the  joke  immensely. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
DAN. 

MRS.  JO  often  thought  that  Dan  had  Indian  blood 
in  him,  not  only  because  of  his  love  of  a  wild, 
wandering  life,  but  his  appearance  ;  for  as  he  grew  up, 
this  became  more  striking.  At  twenty-five  he  was  very 
tall,  with  sinewy  limbs,  a  keen,  dark  face,  and  the  alert 
look  of  one  whose  senses  were  all  alive ;  rough  in 
manner,  full  of  energy,  quick  with  word  and  blow,  e3Tes 
full  of  the  old  fire,  always  watchful  as  if  used  to  keep 
guard,  and  a  general  air  of  vigor  and  freshness  very 
charming  to  those  who  knew  the  dangers  and  delights 
of  his  adventurous  life.  He  was  looking  his  best  as  he 
sat  talking  with  "Mother  Bhaer,"  one  strong  brown 
hand  in  hers,  and  a  world  of  affection  in  his  voice  as 
he  said,  — 

"  Forget  old  friends  !  How  could  I  forget  the  only 
home  I  ever  knew?  Why,  I  was  in  such  a  hurry  to 
come  and  tell  my  good  luck  that  I  did  n't  stop  to  fix 
up,  you  see  ;  though  I  knew  you  'd  think  I  looked  more 
like  a  wild  buffalo  than  ever,"  with  a  shake  of  his  shag- 
gy black  head,  a  tug  at  his  beard,  and  a  laugh  that 
made  the  room  ring. 

"  I  like  it ;  I  always  had  a  fancy  for  banditti,  —  and 
you  look  just  like  one.     Mary,    being   a   new-comer, 


DAN.  67 

was  frightened  at  your  looks  and  manners.  Josie  won't 
know  you,  but  Ted  will  recognize  his  Danny  in  spite  of 
the  big  beard  and  flowing  mane.  They  will  all  be  here 
soon  to  welcome  }Tou ;  so  before  they  come  tell  me 
more  about  yourself.  Wiry,  Dan,  dear !  it 's  nearly 
two  years  since  3tou  were  here  !  Has  it  gone  well  with 
you?"  asked  Mrs.  Jo,  who  had  been  listening  with 
maternal  interest  to  his  account  of  life  in  California, 
and  the  unexpected  success  of  a  small  investment  he 
had  made. 

"  First-rate  !  I  don't  care  for  the  money,  you  know. 
I  only  want  a  trifle  to  pay  m}7  way,  — rather  earn  as  I 
go,  and  not  be  bothered  with  the  care  of  a  lot.  It  's 
the  fun  of  the  thing  coming  to  me,  and  my  being  able 
to  give  awaj7,  that  I  like.  No  use  to  lay  up  ;  I  sha'n't 
live  to  be  old  and  need  it,  —  my  sort  never  do,"  said 
Dan,  looking  as  if  his  little  fortune  rather  oppressed 
him. 

"  But  if  you  marry  and  settle  somewhere,  as  I  hope 
you  will,  you  must  have  something  to  begin  with,  my 
son.  So  be  prudent  and  invest  your  money ;  don't 
give  it  away,  for  rainy  days  come  to  all  of  us,  and  de- 
pendence would  be  very  hard  for  you  to  bear,"  answered 
Mrs.  Jo  with  a  sage  air,  though  she  liked  to  see  that 
the  money-making  fever  had  not  seized  her  luck}7  boy 
yet. 

Dan  shook  his  head,  and  glanced  about  the  room  as 
if  he  already  found  it  rather  confined  and  longed  for 
all  out-of-doors  again. 

"Who  would  marry  a  jack-o'-lantern  like  me? 
Women  like  a  steady-going  man ;  I  shall  never  be 
that." 


68  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  My  dear  boy,  when  I  was  a  girl  I  liked  just  such 
adventurous  fellows  as  you  are.  Anything  fresh  and 
daring,  free  and  romantic,  is  always  attractive  to  us 
women-folk.  Don't  be  discouraged  ;  you  '11  find  an  an- 
chor some  da}r,  and  be  content  to  take  shorter  voyages 
and  bring  home  a  good  cargo." 

"  What  should  you  say  if  I  brought  you  an  Indian 
squaw  some  day  ?  "  asked  Dan,  with  a  glimmer  of  mis- 
chief in  the  eyes  that  rested  on  a  marble  bust  of  Galatea 
gleaming  white  and  lovely  in  the  corner. 

''Welcome  her  heartily,  if  she  was  a  good  one.  Is 
there  a  prospect  of  it?"  and  Mrs.  Jo  peered  at  him 
with  the  interest  which  even  literary  ladies  take  in  love 
affairs. 

' '  Not  at  present,  thank  you.  I  'm  too  busy  '  to  gal- 
livant,' as  Ted  calls  it.  How  is  the  boy  ?  "  asked  Dan, 
skilfully  turning  the  conversation,  as  if  he  had  had 
enough  of  sentiment. 

Mrs.  Jo  was  off  at  once,  and  expatiated  upon  the 
talents  and  virtues  of  her  sons  till  they  came  bursting 
in  and  fell  upon  Dan  like  two  affectionate  young  bears, 
finding  a  vent  for  their  joyful  emotions  in  a  sort  of 
friendly  wrestling-match ;  in  which  both  got  worsted, 
of  course,  for  the  hunter  soon  settled  them.  The  Pro- 
fessor followed,  and  tongues  went  like  mill-clappers 
while  Mar}T  lighted  up  and  cook  devoted  herself  to  an 
unusually  good  supper,  instinctively  divining  that  this 
guest  was  a  welcome  one. 

After  tea  Dan  was  walking  up  and  down  the  long 
rooms  as  he  talked,  with  occasional  trips  into  the  hall 
for  a  fresher  breath  of  air,  his  lungs  seeming  to  need 
more  than  those  of  civilized  people.     In  one  of  these 


DAN.  6y 

trips  he  saw  a  white  figure  framed  in  the  dark  doorway, 
and  paused  to  look  at  it.  Bess  paused  also,  not  recog- 
nizing her  old  friend,  and  quite  unconscious  of  the 
pretty  picture  she  made  standing,  tall  and  slender, 
against  the  soft  gloom  of  the  summer  night,  with  her 
golden  hair  like  a  halo  round  her  head,  and  the  ends  of 
a  white  shawl  blown  out  like  wings  by  the  cool  wind 
sweeping  through  the  hall. 

"Is  it  Dan?  "  she  asked,  coming  in  with  a  gracious 
smile  and  an  outstretched  hand. 

"  Looks  like  it ;  but  I  didn't  know  you,  Princess.  I 
thought  it  was  a  spirit,"  answered  Dan,  looking  down 
at  her  with  a  curious  softness  and  wonder  in  his  face. 

"  I  've  grown  very  much,  but  two  j^ears  have  changed 
you  entirely  ;  "  and  Bess  looked  up  with  girlish  pleasure 
at  the  picturesque  figure  before  her,  —  for  it  was  a 
decided  contrast  to  the  well-dressed  people  about 
her. 

Before  they  could  say  more,  Josie  rushed  in,  and, 
forgetful  of  the  newly  acquired  dignity  of  her  teens,  let 
Dan  catch  her  up  and  kiss  her  like  a  child.  Not  till  he 
set  her  down  did  he  discover  that  she  also  was  changed, 
and  exclaimed  in  comic  dismay,  — 

"Hallo!  Why,  you  are  growing  up  too!  What 
am  I  going  to  do,  with  no  young  one  to  play  with? 
Here 's  Ted  going  it  like  a  beanstalk,  and  Bess  a  young 
lady,  and  even  you,  my  mustard-seed,  letting  down 
your  frocks  and  putting  on  airs." 

The  girls  laughed,  and  Josie  blushed  as  she  stared 
at  the  tall  man,  conscious  that  she  had  leaped  before 
she  looked.  They  made  a  pretty  contrast,  these  two 
young  cousins,  —  one  as  fair  as  a  lily,  the  other  a  little 


70  JO'S  BOYS. 

wild-rose,  And  Dan  gave  a  nod  of  satisfaction  as  he 
surve}Ted  them  ;  for  he  had  seen  man}7  bonny  girls  in 
his  travels,  and  was  glad  that  these  old  friends  were 
blooming  so  beautifully. 

"Here!  we  can't  allow  any  monopoly  of  Dan!" 
called  Mrs.  Jo.  "  Bring  him  back  and  keep  an  eye  on 
him,  or  he  will  be  slipping  off  for  another  little  run  of 
a  year  or  two  before  we  have  half  seen  him." 

Led  by  these  agreeable  captors,  Dan  returned  to  the 
parlor  to  receive  a  scolding  from  Josie  for  getting  ahead 
of  all  the  other  boys  and  looking  like  a  man  first. 

"  Emil  is  older  ;  but  he  's  only  a  boy,  and  dances  jigs 
and  sings  sailor  songs  just  as  he  used  to.  You  look 
about  thirty,  and  as  big  and  black  as  a  villain  in  a  play. 
Oh,  I  've  got  a  splendid  idea  !  You  are  just  the  thing 
for  Arbaces  in  '  The  Last  Days  of  Pompeii.'  We  want 
to  act  it ;  have  the  lion  and  the  gladiators  and  the 
eruption.  Tom  and  Ted  are  going  to  shower  bushels 
of  ashes  down  and  roll  barrels  of  stones  about.  We 
wanted  a  dark  man  for  the  Egyptian ;  and  you  will 
be  gorgeous  in  red  and  white  shawls.  Won't  he, 
Aunt  Jo?" 

This  deluge  of  words  made  Dan  clap  his  hands 
over  his  ears ;  and  before  Mrs.  Bhaer  could  answer 
her  impetuous  niece  the  Laurences,  with  Meg  and 
her  family,  arrived,  soon  followed  by  Tom  and  Nan, 
and  all  sat  down  to  listen  to  Dan's  adventures,  —  told 
in  a  brief  yet  effective  manner,  as  the  varying  expres- 
sions of  interest,  wonder,  merriment,  and  suspense 
pamted  on  the  circle  of  faces  round  him  plainly  showed. 
The  boys  all  wanted  to  start  at  once  for  California  and 
make  fortunes  ;  the  girls  could  hardly  wait  for  the  curi- 


DAN.  71 

ous  and  pretty  things  he  had  picked  up  for  them  in  his 
travels ;  while  the  elders  rejoiced  heartily  over  the  en- 
ergy and  good  prospects  of  their  wild  boy. 

"  Of  course  you  will  want  to  go  back  for  another 
stroke  of  luck ;  and  I  hope  you  will  have  it.  But 
speculation  is  a  dangerous  game,  and  you  may  lose  all 
you've  won,"  said  Mr.  Laurie,  who  had  enjoyed  the  stir- 
ring tale  as  much  as  any  of  the  boys,  and  would  have 
liked  to  rough  it  with  Dan  as  well  as  they. 

"I've  had  enough  of  it,  for  a  while  at  least;  too 
much  like  gambling.  The  excitement  is  all  I  care  for, 
and  it  is  n't  good  for  me.  I  have  a  notion  to  try  farming 
out  West.  It 's  grand  on  a  large  scale  ;  and  I  feel  as 
if  steady  work  would  be  rather  jolly  after  loafing  round 
so  long.  I  can  make  a  beginning,  and  you  can  send  me 
your  black  sheep  to  stock  my  place  with.  I  tried  sheep- 
farming  in  Australia,  and  know  something  about  black 
ones,  any  way." 

A  laugh  chased  away  the  sober  look  in  Dan's  face  as 
he  ended ;  and  those  who  knew  him  best  guessed  that 
he  had  learned  a  lesson  there  in  San  Francisco,  and 
dared  not  try  again. 

"  That  is  a  capital  idea,  Dan  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Jo,  seeing 
great  hope  in  this  desire  to  fix  himself  somewhere  and 
help  others.  "  We  shall  know  where  you  are,  and  can 
go  and  see  you,  and  not  have  half  the  world  between 
us.  I  '11  send  my  Ted  for  a  visit.  He  's  such  a  restless 
spirit,  it  would  do  him  good.  With  you  he  would  be 
safe  while  he  worked  off  his  surplus  energies  and  learned 
a  wholesome  business." 

"  I  '11  use  the  '  shubble  and  de  hoe '  like  a  good  one, 
if  I  get  a  chance  out  there  ;  but  the  Speranza  mines 


72  JO'S  BOYS. 

sound  rather  jollier,"  said  Ted,  examining  the  samples 
of  ore  Dan  had  brought  for  the  Professor. 

"  You  go  and  start  a  new  town,  and  when  we  are 
ready  to  swarm  we  will  come  out  and  settle  there.  You 
will  want  a  newspaper  very  soon,  and  I  like  the  idea 
of  running  one  myself  much  better  than  grinding  away 
as  I  do  now,"  observed  Demi,  panting  to  distinguish 
himself  in  the  journalistic  line. 

"  We  could  easily  plant  a  new  college  there.  These 
sturdy  Westerners  are  hungry  for  learning,  and  very 
quick  to  see  and  choose  the  best,"  added  ever-young 
Mr.  March,  beholding  with  his  prophetic  eye  many 
duplicates  of  their  own  nourishing  establishment  spring- 
ing up  in  the  wide  West. 

"  Go  on,  Dan.  It  is  a  fine  plan,  and  we  will  back 
you  up.  I  should  n't  mind  investing  in  a  few  prairies 
and  cowboys  myself,"  said  Mr.  Laurie,  always  ready  to 
help  the  lads  to  help  themselves,  both  by  his  cheery 
words  and  ever-open  purse. 

"  A  little  money  sort  of  ballasts  a  fellow,  and  invest- 
ing it  in  land  anchors  him,  —  for  a  while,  at  least.  I  'd 
like  to  see  what  I  can  do,  but  I  thought  I  'd  consult  you 
before  I  decided.  Have  my  doubts  about  its  suiting  me 
for  many  years  ;  but  I  can  cut  loose  when  I  'm  tired," 
answered  Dan,  both  touched  and  pleased  at  the  eager 
interest  of  these  friends  in  his  plans. 

" 1  know  j'ou  won't  like  it.  After  having  the  whole 
world  to  roam  over,  one  farm  will  seem  dreadfully  small 
and  stupid,"  said  Josie,  who  much  preferred  the  romance 
of  the  wandering  life  which  brought  her  thrilling  tales 
and  pretty  things  at  each  return. 

"  Is  there  any  art  out  there?"  asked  Bess,  thinking 


DAN.  T3 

what  a  good  study  in  black  and  white  Dan  would  make 
as  he  stood  talking,  half  turned  from  the  light. 

"  Plenty  of  nature,  dear;  and  that  is  better.  You 
will  find  splendid  animals  to  model,  and  scenery  such  as 
you  never  saw  in  Europe  to  paint.  Even  prosaic  pump- 
kins are  grand  out  there.  You  can  play  '  Cinderella* 
in  one  of  them,  Josie,  when  you  open  your  theatre  in 
Dansville,"  said  Mr.  Laurie,  anxious  that  no  cold  water 
should  be  thrown  on  the  new  plan. 

Stage-struck  Josie  was  caught  at  once,  and  being 
promised  all  the  tragic  parts  on  the  yet  unbuilt  stage, 
she  felt  a  deep  interest  in  the  project,  and  begged  Dan 
to  lose  no  time  in  beginning  his  experiment.  Bess  also 
confessed  that  studies  from  nature  would  be  good  for 
her,  and  wild  scenery  improve  her  taste,  which  might 
grow  over-nice  if  only  the  delicate  and  beautiful  were 
set  before  her. 

"  I  speak  for  the  practice  of  the  new  town,"  said  Nan, 
always  eager  for  fresh  enterprises.  "  I  shall  be  ready 
by  the  time  you  get  well  started,  —  towns  grow  so  fast 
out  there." 

u  Dan  is  n't  going  to  allow  any  woman  under  forty  in 
tris  place.  He  does  n't  like  them,  'specially  young  and 
pretty  ones,"  put  in  Tom,  who  was  raging  with  jealousy, 
because  he  read  admiration  for  Nan  in  Dan's  eyes. 

"That  won't  affect  me,  because  doctors  are  except 
tions  to  all  rules.  There  won't  be  much  sickness  in 
Dansville,  every  one  will  lead  such  active,  wholesome 
lives,  and  only  energetic  young  people  will  go  there. 
But  accidents  will  be  frequent,  owing  to  wild  cattle, 
fast  riding,  Indian  scrimmages,  and  the  recklessness 
of  Western  life.     That  will  just  suit  me.     I  long  for 


74  JO'S  BOYS. 

broken  bones,  surgery  is  so  interesting,  and  I  get  so 
little  here,"  answered  Nan,  jrearning  to  put  out  her 
shingle  and  begin. 

1 '  I  '11  have  you,  Doctor,  and  be  glad  of  such  a  good 
sample  of  what  we  can  do  in  the  East.  Peg  away,  and 
I  '11  send  for  you  as  soon  as  I  have  a  roof  to  cover  }'ou. 
I  '11  scalp  a  few  red  fellows  or  smash  up  a  dozen  or  so 
of  cowboys  for  jour  special  benefit,"  laughed  Dan,  well 
pleased  with  the  energy  and  fine  phj-sique  which  made 
Nan  a  conspicuous  figure  among  other  girls. 

"Thanks.  I'll  come.  Would  you  just  let  me  feel 
your  arm?  Splendid  biceps!  Now,  boys,  see  here: 
this  is  what  I  call  muscle."  And  Nan  delivered  a  short 
lecture  with  Dan's  sinew}7  arm  to  illustrate  it. 

Tom  retired  to  the  alcove  and  glowered  at  the  stars, 
while  he  swung  his  own  right  arm  with  a  vigor  sugges- 
tive of  knocking  some  one  down. 

"Make  Tom  sexton;  he'll  enjoy  burying  the  pa- 
tients Nan  kills.  He 's  trying  to  get  up  the  glum  ex- 
pression proper  to  the  business.  Don't  forget  him, 
Dan,"  said  Ted,  directing  attention  to  the  blighted 
being  in  the  corner. 

But  Tom  never  sulked  long,  and  came  out  from  his 
brief  eclipse  with  the  cheerful  proposition,  — 

"  Look  here,  we'll  get  the  city  to  ship  out  to  Dans- 
ville  all  the  cases  of  yellow  fever,  small-pox,  and 
cholera  that  arrive ;  then  Nan  will  be  happy,  and  her 
mistakes  won't  matter  much  with  emigrants  and  con- 
victs." 

"  I  should  advise  settling  near  Jacksonville,  or  some 
such  city,  that  3'ou  might  enjoy  the  society  of  cultivated 
persons.     The  Plato  Club  is  there,  and  a  most  ardent 


DAN.  75 

thirst  for  philosophy.  Everything  from  the  East  is 
welcomed  hospitably,  and  new  enterprises  would  flour- 
ish in  such  kindly  soil,"  observed  Mr.  March,  mildly 
offering  a  suggestion,  as  he  sat  among  the  elders  enjoy- 
ing the  lively  scene. 

The  idea  of  Dan  studying  Plato  was  very  funny  ;  but 
no  one  except  naughty  Ted  smiled,  and  Dan  made 
haste  to  unfold  another  plan  seething  in  that  active 
brain  of  his. 

"I'm  not  sure  the  farming  will  succeed,  and  have  a 
strong  leaning  toward  m}T  old  friends  the  Montana 
Indians.  They  are  a  peaceful  tribe,  and  need  help 
awfully  ;  hundreds  have  died  of  starvation  because  they 
don't  get  their  share.  The  Sioux  are  fighters,  thirty 
thousand  strong,  so  Government  fears  'em,  and  gives 
'em  all  they  want.  I  call  that  a  damned  shame !  " 
Dan  stopped  short  as  the  oath  slipped  out,  but  his  eyes 
flashed,  and  he  went  on  quickly,  "  It  is  just  that,  and 
I  won't  beg  pardon.  If  I  'd  had  any  money  when  I  was 
there  I  'd  have  given  every  cent  to  those  poor  devils, 
cheated  out  of  everything,  and  waiting  patiently,  after 
being  driven  from  their  own  land  to  places  where  noth- 
ing will  grow.  Now,  honest  agents  could  do  much,  and 
I  've  a  feeling  that  I  ought  to  go  and  lend  a  hand.  I 
know  their  lingo,  and  I  like  'em.  I  've  got  a  few  thou- 
sands, and  I  ain't  sure  I  have  any  right  to  spend  it  on 
myself  and  settle  down  to  enjoy  it.     Hey  ?  " 

Dan  looked  very  manly  and  earnest  as  he  faced  his 
friends,  flushed  and  excited  by  the  energy  of  his  words  ; 
and  all  felt  that  little  thrill  of  s}'mpathy  which  links 
hearts  together  by  the  tie  of  pity  for  the  wronged. 

"Do  it,  do  it!"  cried  Mrs.   Jo,  fired  at  once;  for 


76  JO'S  BOYS. 

misfortune  was  much  more  interesting  to  her  than  good 
luck. 

"Do  it,  do  it!"  echoed  Ted,  applauding  as  if  at  a 
pla}7,  "  and  take  me  along  to  help.  I'm  just  raging  to 
get  among  those  fine  fellows  and  hunt." 

;t  Let  us  hear  more  and  see  if  it  is  wise,"  said  Mr. 
Laurie,  privately  resolving  to  people  his  as  yet  un- 
bought  prairies  with  Montana  Indians,  and  increase  his 
donations  to  the  society  that  sent  missionaries  to  this 
much  wronged  people. 

Dan  plunged  at  once  into  the  history  of  what  he  saw 
among  the  Dakotas  and  other  tribes  in  the  Northwest, 
telling  of  their  wrongs,  patience,  and  courage  as  if  they 
were  his  brothers. 

"  They  called  me  Dan  Fire  Cloud,  because  my  rifle 
was  the  best  they  ever  saw.  And  Black  Hawk  was  as 
good  a  friend  as  a  fellow  would  want ;  saved  nry  life 
more  than  once,  and  taught  me  just  what  will  be  useful 
if  I  go  back.  They  are  down  on  their  luck,  now,  and 
I  'd  like  to  pay  my  debts." 

By  this  time  every  one  was  interested,  and  Dans- 
ville  began  to  lose  its  charms.  But  prudent  Mr.  Bhaer 
suggested  that  one  honest  agent  among  many  could  not 
do  much,  and  noble  as  the  effort  would  be,  it  was  wiser 
to  think  over  the  matter  carefully,  get  influence  and 
authority  from  the  right  quarters,  and  meantime  look 
at  lands  before  deciding. 

"  Well,  I  will.  I'm  going  to  take  a  run  to  Kansas 
and  see  how  that  promises.  Met  a  fellow  in  'Frisco 
who'd  been  there,  and  he  spoke  well  of  it.  The  fact 
is,  there's  so  much  to  be  done  every  where  that  I 
don't  know  where  to  catch  on,  and  half  wish  1  had  n't 


DAN.  77 

any  money,"  answered  Dan,  knitting  his  brows  in  the 
perplexity  all  kind  souls  feel  when  anxious  to  help  at 
the  great  task  of  the  world's  charhy. 

"  I  '11  keep  it  for  you  till  you  decide.  You  are  such 
an  impetuous  lad  you  '11  give  it  to  the  first  beggar  that 
gets  hold  of  you.  I  '11  turn  it  over  while  you  are  pros- 
pecting, and  han<jl  it  back  when  you  are  ready  to  invest, 
shall  I?"  asked  Mr.  Laurie,  who  had  learned  wisdom 
since  the  days  of  his  own  extravagant  youth. 

"  Thank}-,  sir,  I'd  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  it.  You  just 
hold  on  till  I  say  the  word  ;  and  if  anything  happens  to 
me  this  time,  keep  it  to  help  some  other  scamp  as  you 
helped  me.  This  is  my  will,  and  you  all  witness  it. 
Now  I  feel  better."  And  Dan  squared  his  shoulders 
as  if  relieved  of  a  burden,  after  handing  over  the  belt 
in  which  he  carried  his  little  fortune. 

No  one  dreamed  how  much  was  to  happen  before  Dan 
came  to  take  his  money  back,  nor  how  nearly  that  act 
was  his  last  will  and  testament ;  and  while  Mr.  Laurie 
was  explaining  how  he  would  invest  it,  a  cheery  voice 
was  heard  singing,  — 

"  Oh,  Peggy  was  a  jolly  lass, 

Ye  heave  ho,  boys,  ye  heave  ho  ! 

She  never  grudged  her  Jack  a  glass, 
Ye  heave  ho,  boys,  ye  heave  ho ! 

And  when  he  sailed  the  raging  main, 

She  faithful  was  unto  her  swain, 
Ye  heave  ho,  boys,  ye  heave  ho  !  " 

Emil  always  announced  his  arrival  in  that  fashion, 
and  in  a  moment  he  came  hurrying  in  with  Nat,  who 
had  been  giving  lessons  in  town  all  day.  It  was  good 
to  see  the  latter  beam  at  his  friend  as  he  nearlv  shook 


78  JO'S  BOYS. 

his  hand  off;  better  still  to  see  how  Dan  gratefully 
remembered  all  he  owed  Nat,  and  tried  to  pay  the  debt 
in  his  rough  way ;  and  best  of  all  to  hear  the  two  trav- 
ellers compare  notes  and  reel  off  }Tarns  to  dazzle  the 
land-lubbers  and  home-keepers. 

After  this  addition  the  house  would  not  contain  the 
gay  }Toungsters,  so  they  migrated  to  the  piazza  and 
settled  on  the  steps,  like  a  flock  of  night-loving  birds. 
Mr.  March  and  the  Professor  retired  to  the  study,  Meg 
and  Amy  went  to  look  after  the  little  refection  of  fruit 
and  cake  which  was  to  come,  and  Mrs.  Jo  and  Mr. 
Laurie  sat  in  the  long  window  listening  to  the  chat  that 
went  on  outside. 

"  There  the}^  are,  the  flower  of  our  flock  !  "  she  said, 
pointing  to  the  group  before  them.  "  The  others  are 
dead  or  scattered,  but  these  seven  bo}~s  and  four  girls 
are  my  especial  comfort  and  pride.  Counting  Alice 
Heath,  m}'  dozen  is  made  up,  and  nry  hands  are  full  try- 
ing to  guide  these  young  lives  as  far  as  human  skill  can 
do  it." 

''When  we  remember  how  different  they  are,  from 
what  some  of  them  came,  and  the  home  influences 
about  others,  I  think  we  ma}^  feel  prett}'  well  satisfied  so 
far,"  answered  Mr.  Laurie  soberly,  as  his  ej^es  rested 
on  one  bright  head  among  the  black  and  brown  ones, 
for  the  3'oung  moon  shone  alike  on  all. 

"  I  don't  worry  about  the  girls ;  Meg  sees  to  them, 
and  is  so  wise  and  patient  and  tender  they  can't  help 
doing  well ;  but  my  boys  are  more  care  every  }Tear,  and 
seem  to  drift  farther  away  from  me  each  time  they  go," 
sighed  Mrs.  Jo.  "  They  will  grow  up,  and  I  can  only 
hold  them  by  one  little  thread,  which  may  snap  at  any 


VAN,  79 

time,  as  it  has  with  Jack  and  Ned.  Dolly  and  George 
still  like  to  come  back,  and  I  can  say  my  word  to  them  \ 
and  dear  old  Franz  is  too  true  ever  to  forget  his  own. 
But  the  three  who  are  soon  going  out  into  the  world 
again  I  can't  help  wonying  about.  Emil's  good  heart 
will  keep  him  straight,  I  hope,  and 

"  A  sweet  little  cherub  sits  up  aloft, 
To  look  out  for  the  life  of  poor  Jack." 

Nat  is  to  make  his  first  flight,  and  he  's  weak  in  spite 
of  your  strengthening  influence ;  and  Dan  is  still  un- 
tamed. I  fear  it  will  take  some  hard  lesson  to  do 
that." 

"  He 's  a  fine  fellow,  Jo,  and  I  almost  regret  this 
farming  project.  A  little  polish  would  make  a  gentle- 
man of  him,  and  who  knows  what  he  might  become 
here  among  us,"  answered  Mr.  Laurie,  leaning  over 
Mrs.  Bhaer's  chair,  just  as  he  used  to  do  years  ago 
when  they  had  mischievous  secrets  together. 

"It  wouldn't  be  safe,  Teddy.  Work  and  the  free 
life  he  loves  will  make  a  good  man  of  him,  and  that  is 
better  than  any  amount  of  polish,  with  the  dangers  an 
easy  life  in  a  city  would  bring  him.  We  can't  change  his 
nature,  —  only  help  it  to  develop  in  the  right  direction. 
The  old  impulses  are  there,  and  must  be  controlled,  or 
he  will  go  wrong.  I  see  that ;  but  his  love  for  us  is  a 
safeguard,  and  we  must  keep  a  hold  on  him  till  he  is 
older  or  has  a  stronger  tie  to  help  him." 

Mrs.  Jo  spoke  earnestly,  for,  knowing  Dan  better 
than  any  one  else,  she  saw  that  her  colt  was  not  thor- 
oughly broken  yet,  and  feared  while  she  hoped,  know- 
ing that  life  would  always  be  hard  for  one  like  him* 


80  JO'S  BOYS. 

She  was  sure  that  before  lie  went  away  again,  in  some 
quiet  moment  he  would  give  her  a  glimpse  of  his  inner 
self,  and  then  she  could  say  the  word  of  warning  or  en- 
couragement that  he  needed.  So  she  bided  her  time, 
studying  him  meanwhile,  glad  to  see  all  that  was  prom- 
ising, and  quick  to  detect  the  harm  the  world  was  doing 
him.  She  was  very  anxious  to  make  a  success  of  her 
4 '  firebrand  "  because  others  predicted  failure  ;  but  hav- 
ing learned  that  people  cannot  be  moulded  like  clay, 
she  contented  herself  with  the  hope  that  this  neglected 
boy  might  become  a  good  man,  and  asked  no  more. 
Even  that  was  much  to  expect,  so  full  was  he  of  way- 
ward impulses,  strong  passions,  and  the  lawless  nature 
born  in  him.  Nothing  held  him  but  the  one  affection 
of  his  life,  —  the  memory  of  Plumfield,  the  fear  of  disap- 
pointing these  faithful  friends,  the  pride,  stronger  than 
principle,  that  made  him  want  to  keep  the  regard  of  the 
mates  who  always  had  admired  and  loved  him  spite 
of  all  his  faults. 

' '  Don't  fret,  old  dear ;  Emil  is  one  of  the  happy-go- 
lucky  sort  who  alwa}Ts  fall  on  their  legs.  I'll  see  to 
Nat,  and  Dan  is  in  a  good  way  now.  Let  him  take  a 
look  at  Kansas,  and  if  the  farm  plan  loses  its  charm,  he 
can  fall  back  on  poor  Lo,  and  really  do  good  out  there. 
He 's  unusually  fitted  for  that  peculiar  task,  and  I  hope 
he'll  decide  to  do  it.  Fighting  oppressors  and  be- 
friending the  oppressed  will  keep  those  dangerous  ener- 
gies of  his  busy,  and  the  life  will  suit  him  better  than 
sheepfolds  and  wheat-fields. 

"I  hope  so.  What  is  that  ?"  and  Mrs.  Jo  leaned 
forward  to  listen,  as  exclamations  from  Ted  and  Josie 
caught  her  ear* 


DAN.  81 

84  A  mustang !  a  real,  live  one ;  and  we  can  ride  it. 
Dan,  you  are  a  first  class  trump ! "  cried  the  boy. 

"  A  whole  Indian  dress  for  me!  Now  I  can  play 
Namioka,  if  the  boys  act  t  Metamora,' "  added  Josie, 
clapping  her  hands. 

44  A  buffalo's  head  for  Bess  !  Good  gracious,  Dan, 
why  did  you  bring  such  a  horrid  thing  as  that  to  her  ?  " 
asked  Nan. 

44  Thought  it  would  do  her  good  to  model  something 
strong  and  natural.  She  '11  never  amount  to  anything 
if  she  keeps  on  making  namby-pamby  gods  and  pet 
kittens,"  answered  irreverent  Dan,  remembering  that 
when  he  was  last  here  Bess  was  vibrating  distractedly 
beween  a  head  of  Apollo  and  her  Persian  cat  as 
models. 

44  Thank  you  ;  I  '11  try  it,  and  if  I  fail  we  can  put  the 
buffalo  up  in  the  hall  to  remind  us  of  you,"  said  Bess, 
indignant  at  the  insult  offered  the  gods  of  her  idolatry, 
but  too  well  bred  to  show  it  except  in  her  voice,  which 
was  as  sweet  and  as  cold  as  ice-cream. 

44 1  suppose  you  won't  come  out  to  see  our  new  settle- 
ment when  the  rest  do  ?  Too  rough  for  you  ?  "  asked 
Dan,  trying  to  assume  the  deferential  air  all  the  boys 
used  when  addressing  their  Princess. 

44 1  am  going  to  Rome  to  study  for  years.  All  the 
beauty  and  art  of  the  world  is  there,  and  a  lifetime 
is  n't  long  enough  to  enjoy  it,"  answered  Bess. 

44  Rome  is  a  mouldy  old  tomb  compared  to  the 
4  Garden  of  the  gods '  and  my  magnificent  Rockies.  I 
don't  care  a  hang  for  art ;  nature  is  as  much  as  I  can 
stand,  and  I  guess  I  could  show  you  things  that  would 
knock  your  old  masters  higher   than  kites.      Better 


82  JO'S  BOYS. 

come,  and  while  Josie  rides  the  horses  you  can  model 
'em.  If  a  drove  of  a  hundred  or  so  of  wild  ones  can't 
show  you  beauty,  I'll  give  up,"  cried  Dan,  waxing  en- 
thusiastic over  the  wild  grace  and  vigor  which  he  could 
enjoy  but  had  no  power  to  describe. 

"Ill  come  some  day  with  papa,  and  see  if  they  are 
better  than  the  horses  of  St.  Mark  and  those  on  Capi- 
tol Hill.  Please  don't  abuse  my  gods,  and  I  will  try  to 
like  yours,"  said  Bess,  beginning  to  think  the  West 
might  be  worth  seeing,  though  no  Raphael  or  Angelo 
had  yet  appeared  there, 

"  That 's  a  bargain  !  I  do  think  people  ought  to  see 
their  own  country  before  they  go  scooting  off  to  foreign 
parts,  as  if  the  new  world  was  n't  worth  discovering," 
began  Dan,  ready  to  bury  the  hatchet. 

"  It  has  some  advantages,  but  not  all.  The  women 
of  England  can  vote,  and  we  can't.  I'm  ashamed  of 
America  that  she  is  n't  ahead  in  all  good  things,"  cried 
Nan,  who  held  advanced  views  on  all  reforms,  and  was 
anxious  about  her  rights,  having  had  to  fight  for  some 
of  them. 

"  Oh,  please  don't  begin  on  that.  People  always 
quarrel  over  that  question,  and  call  names,  and  never 
agree.  Do  let  us  be  quiet  and  happy  to-night," 
pleaded  Daisy,  who  hated  discussion  as  much  as  Nan 
loved  it. 

"  You  shall  vote  as  much  as  you  like  in  our  new  town, 
Nan ;  be  mayor  and  aldermen,  and  run  the  whole  con- 
cern. It 's  going  to  be  as  free  as  air,  or  I  can't  live  in 
it,"  said  Dan,  adding,  with  a  laugh,  "  I  see  Mrs.  Giddy- 
gaddy  and  Mrs.  Shakespeare  Smith  don't  agree  anjf 
better  than  they  used  to." 


DAN.  83 

■ B  If  every  one  agreed,  we  should  never  get  on.  Daisy- 
is  a  dear,  but  inclined  to  be  an  old  fogy  ;  so  I  stir  her 
up ;  and  next  fall  she  will  go  and  vote  with  me.  Demi 
will  escort  us  to  do  the  one  thing  we  are  allowed  to  do 
as  yet." 

"  Will  }^ou  take  'em,  Deacon?"  asked  Dan,  using  the 
old  name  as  if  he  liked  it.  "It  works  capitally  in 
Wyoming." 

' '  I  shall  be  proud  to  do  it.  Mother  and  the  aunts  go 
every  year,  and  Daisy  will  come  with  me.  She  is  my 
better  half  still ;  and  I  don't  mean  to  leave  her  behind 
in  anything,"  said  Demi,  with  an  arm  round  his  sister 
of  whom  he  was  fonder  than  ever. 

Dan  looked  at  them  wistfully,  thinking  how  sweet  it 
must  be  to  have  such  a  tie  ;  and  his  lonely  youth  seemed 
sadder  than  ever  as  he  recalled  its  struggles.  A  gusty 
sigh  from  Tom  made  sentiment  impossible,  as  he  said 
pensively,  — 

"I  always  wanted  to  be  a  twin.  It 's  so  sociable  and 
so  cosey  to  have  some  one  glad  to  lean  on  a  fellow  and 
comfort  him,  if  other  girls  are  cruel." 

As  Tom's  unrequited  passion  was  the  standing  joke 
of  the  family,  this  allusion  produced  a  laugh,  which  Nan 
increased  by  whipping  out  a  bottle  of  JVux,  sa}Ting,  with 
her  professional  air,  — 

"  I  knew  3tou  ate  too  much  lobster  for  tea.  Take 
four  pellets,  and  3-our  d3'spepsia  will  be  all  right.  Tom 
always  sighs  and  is  silly  when  he's  overeaten." 

"  I  '11  take  'em.  These  are  the  only  sweet  things 
you  ever  give  me."  And  Tom  gloomity  crunched  his 
dose. 

44  i  Who  can  minister  to  a  mind  diseased,  or  pluck  out 


84  JO'S  BOYS. 

a  rooted  sorrow  ? ' "  quoted  Josie  tragically  from  her 
perch  on  the  railing. 

"  Come  with  me,  Tommy,  and  I'll  make  a  man  of 
you.  Drop  your  pills  and  powders,  and  cavort  round 
the  world  a  spell,  and  you  '11  soon  forget  }tou  've  got  a 
heart,  or  a  stomach  either,"  said  Dan,  offering  his  one 
panacea  for  all  ills. 

"  Ship  with  me,  Tom.  A  good  fit  of  seasickness 
will  set  you  up,  and  a  stiff  north-easter  blow  }'Our  blue- 
devils  away.  Come  along  as  surgeon,  —  easy  berth,  and 
no  end  of  larks. 

" '  And  if  your  Nancy  frowns,  my  lad, 
And  scorns  a  jacket  blue, 
Just  hist  your  sails  for  other  ports, 
And  find  a  maid  more  true.'  "  — - 

added  Emil,  who  had  a  fragment  of  song  to  cheer  every 
care  and  sorrow,  and  freely  offered  them  to  his  friends. 

"  Perhaps  I  '11  think  of  it  when  I  've  got  my  diploma. 
I'm  not  going  to  grind  three  mortal  years  and  have 
nothing  to  show  for  it.     Till  then  —  " 

"I  '11  never  desert  Mrs.  Micawber,"  interrupted 
Teddy,  with  a  gurgling  sob. 

Tom  immediately  rolled  him  off  the  step  into  the  wet 
grass  below ;  and  by  the  time  this  slight  skirmish  was 
over,  the  jingle  of  teaspoons  suggested  refreshments  of 
a  more  agreeable  sort.  In  former  times  the  little  girls 
waited  on  the  boys,  to  save  confusion  ;  now  the  young 
men  flew  to  serve  the  ladies,  }'oung  and  old ;  and  that 
slight  fact  showed  plainly  how  the  tables  were  turned  by 
time.  And  what  a  pleasant  arrangement  it  was  !  Even 
Josie  sat  still,  and  let  Emil  bring  her  berries  ;  enjoying 


DAN.  85 

her  young  lactyhood,  till  Ted  stole  her  cake,  when  she 
forgot  manners,  and  chastised  him  with  a  rap  on  the 
knuckles.  As  guest  of  honor,  Dan  was  only  allowed  to 
wait  on  Bess,  who  still  held  the  highest  place  in  this 
small  world.  Tom  carefully  selected  the  best  of  every- 
thing for  Nan,  to  be  crushed  by  the  remark,  — 

' '  I  never  eat  at  this  hour  ;  and  you  will  have  night- 
mare if  you  do." 

So,  dutifully  curbing  the  pangs  of  hunger,  he  gave 
the  plate  to  Daisy,  and  chewed  rose-leaves  for  his 
supper. 

When  a  surprising  quantity  of  wholesome  nourish- 
ment had  been  consumed,  some  one  said,  "  Let 's  sing  !  " 
and  a  tuneful  hour  followed.  Nat  fiddled,  Demi  piped, 
Dan  strummed  the  old  banjo,  and  Emil  warbled  a  dole- 
ful ballad  about  the  wreck  of  the  "  Bounding  Betsey ;  " 
then  everybody  joined  in  the  old  songs  till  there  was 
very  decidedly  ' '  music  in  the  air ; "  and  passers-by 
said,  as  they  listened  smiling,  "  Old  Plum  is  ga}^  to- 
night ! " 

When  all  had  gone  Dan  lingered  on  the  piazza,  en- 
joying the  oalmy  wind  that  blew  up  from  the  ha}Tfields, 
and  brought  the  breath  of  flowers  from  Parnassus  ;  and 
as  he  leaned  there  romantically  in  the  moonlight,  Mrs. 
Jo  came  to  shut  the  door. 

"Dreaming  dreams,  Dan?"  she  asked,  thinking  the 
tender  moment  might  have  come.  Imagine  the  shock 
when,  instead  of  some  interesting  confidence  or  affec- 
tionate word,  Dan  swung  round,  saying  bluntly,  — 

"  I  was  wishing  I  could  smoke." 

Mrs.  Jo  laughed  at  the  downfall  of  her  hopes,  and 
answered  kindly,  — 


86  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  You  may,  in  }7our  room;  but  don't  set  the  house 
anre." 

Perhaps  Dan  saw  a  little  disappointment  in  her  face, 
or  the  memory  of  the  sequel  of  that  bo}*ish  frolic  touched 
his  heart ;  for  he  stooped  and  kissed  her,  saying  in  a 
whisper,  "  Good-night,  mother."  And  Mrs.  Jo  was 
half  satisfied. 


CHAPTER  V. 

VACATION. 

EVERY  one  was  glad  of  a  holiday  next  morning, 
and  all  lingered  over  the  breakfast- table,  till 
Mrs.  Jo  suddenly  exclaimed,  — 

"Why,  there's  a  dog!"  And  on  the  threshold  of 
the  door  appeared  a  great  deer-hound  standing  motion- 
less, with  his  eyes  fixed  on  Dan. 

" Hullo,  old  boy!  Couldn't  you  wait  till  I  came 
for  you?  Have  you  cut  away  on  the  sly?  Own  up 
now,  and  take  your  whipping  like  a  man,"  said  Dan, 
rising  to  meet  the  dog,  who  reared  on  his  hind  legs  to 
look  his  master  in  the  face  and  bark  as  if  uttering  an 
indignant  denial  of  any  disobedience. 

4 'All  right;  Don  never  lies."  And  Dan  gave  the 
tall  beast  a  hug,  adding  as  he  glanced  out  of  the  win- 
dow, where  a  man  and  horse  were  seen  approaching,  — 

"I left  my  plunder  at  the  hotel  over  night,  not  know- 
ing how  I  should  find  you.  Come  out  and  see  Octoo, 
my  mustang ;  she 's  a  beauty."  And  Dan  was  off, 
with  the  family  streaming  after  him,  to  welcome  the 
new-comer. 

They  found  her  preparing  to  go  up  the  steps  in  her 
eagerness  to  reach  her  master,  to  the  great  dismay  of 
the  man,  who  was  holding  her  back. 


88  JO'S  BOYS, 

44  Let  her  come,"  called  Dan  ;  "  she  climbs  like  a  cat 
and  jumps  like  a  deer.  Well,  my  girl,  do  you  want  a 
gallop?"  he  asked,  as  the  pretty  creature  clattered  up 
to  him  and  whinnied  with  pleasure  as  he  rubbed  her 
nose  and  slapped  her  glossy  flank. 

"  That  's  what  I  call  a  horse  worth  having,"  said  Ted, 
full  of  admiration  and  delight ;  for  he  was  to  have  the 
care  of  her  during  Dan's  absence. 

"  What  intelligent  eyes  !  She  looks  as  if  she  would 
speak,"  said  Mrs.  Jo. 

44  She  talks  like  a  human  in  her  way.  Ver}T  little  that 
she  don't  know.  Hey,  old  lass  ?•  "  and  Dan  laid  his  cheek 
to  hers  as  if  the  little  black  mare  was  very  dear  to  him. 

44  What  does  4  Octoo '  mean  ?  "  asked  Rob. 

44  Lightning;  she  deserves  it,  as  you'll  see.  Black 
Hawk  gave  her  to  me  for  my  rifle,  and  we  've  had  high 
times  together  out  yonder.  She 's  saved  my  life  more 
than  once.     Do  you  see  that  scar  ?  " 

Dan  pointed  to  a  small  one,  half  hidden  by  the  long 
mane ;  and  standing  with  his  arm  about  Octoo's  neck, 
he  told  the  story  of  it. 

44  Black  Hawk  and  I  were  after  buffalo  one  time, 
(but  did  n't  find  'em  as  soon  as  we  expected  ;  so  our  food 
gave  out,  and  there  we  were  a  hundred  miles  from  Red 
Deer  River,  where  our  camp  was.  I  thought  we  were 
done  for,  but  my  brave  pal  says,  4  Now  I  '11  show  you 
how  we  can  live  till  we  find  the  herds.'  We  were  un- 
saddling for  the  night  by  a  little  pond;  there  wasn't 
a  living  creature  in  sight  anywhere,  not  even  a  bird, 
and  we  could  see  for  miles  over  the  prairies.  What  do 
you  think  we  did?"  And  Dan  looked  into  the  faces 
round  hiu\0 


VACATION.  89 

"Ate  worms,  like  the  Australian  fellows,"  said  Rob. 

"Boiled  grass  or  leaves,"  added  Mrs.  Jo. 

"  Perhaps  filled  the  stomach  with  clay,  as  we  read  of 
savages  doing?"  suggested  Mr.  Bhaer. 

"  Killed  one  of  the  horses,"  cried  Ted,  eager  for 
bloodshed  of  some  sort. 

44  No;  but  we  bled  one  of  them.  See,  just  here; 
filled  a  tin  cup,  put  some  wild  sage  leaves  in  it,  with 
water,  and  heated  it  over  a  fire  of  sticks.  It  was  good, 
and  we  slept  well." 

' '  I  guess  Octoo  did  n't."  And  Josie  patted  the  animal, 
with  a  face  full  of  sympathy. 

44  Never  minded  it  a  bit.  Black  Hawk  said  we  could 
live  on  the  horses  several  days  and  still  travel  before 
they  felt  it.  But  by  another  morning  we  found  the  buf- 
falo, and  I  shot  the  one  whose  head  is  in  my  box,  ready 
to  hang  up  and  scare  brats  into  fits.  He 's  a  fierce  old 
fellow,  you  bet." 

44  What  is  this  strap  for?"  asked  Ted,  who  was  busily 
examining  the  Indian  saddle,  the  single  rein  and  snaffle, 
with  lariat,  and  round  the  neck  the  leather  band  he 
spoke  of. 

44  We  hold  on  to  that  when  we  lie  along  the  horse's 
flank  farthest  from  the  enemy,  and  fire  under  the  neck  as 
we  gallop  round  and  round.  I  '11  show  you."  And 
springing  into  the  saddle,  Dan  was  off  down  the  steps, 
tearing  over  the  lawn  at  a  great  pace,  sometimes  on 
Octoo's  back,  sometimes  half  hidden  as  he  hung  by  stir- 
rup and  strap,  and  sometimes  off  altogether,  running 
beside  her  as  she  loped  along,  enjojing  the  fun  im- 
mensely ;  while  Don  raced  after,  in  a  canine  rapture  at 
being  free  again  and  with  his  mates. 


90  JO'S  BOYS. 

It  was  a  fine  sight,  —  the  three  wild  things  at  play,  so 
full  of  vigor,  grace,  and  freedom,  that  for  the  moment 
the  smooth  lawn  seemed  a  prairie ;  and  the  spectators 
felt  as  if  this  glimpse  of  another  life  made  their  own 
seem  rather  tame  and  colorless. 

"  That  is  better  than  a  circus  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Jo,  wish- 
ing she  were  a  girl  again,  that  she  might  take  a  gallop 
on  this  chained  lightning  of  a  horse.  "  I  foresee  that 
Nan  will  have  her  hands  full  setting  bones,  for  Ted  will 
break  every  one  of  his  trying  to  rival  Dan." 

"  A  few  falls  will  not  harm,  and  this  new  care  and 
pleasure  will  be  good  for  him  in  all  ways.  But  I  fear 
Pan  will  never  follow  a  plough  after  riding  a  Pegasus 
like  that,"  answered  Mr.  Bhaer,  as  the  black  mare  leaped 
the  gate  and  came  flying  up  the  avenue,  to  stop  at  a 
word  and  stand  quivering  with  excitement,  while  Dan 
swung  himself  off  and  looked  up  for  applause. 

He  received  plenty  of  it,  and  seemed  more  pleased 
for  his  pet's  sake  than  for  his  own.  Ted  clamored  for 
a  lesson  at  once,  and  was  soon  at  ease  in  the  queer  sad- 
dle, finding  Octoo  gentle  as  a  lamb,  as  he  trotted  away 
to  'show  off  at  college.  Bess  came  hastening  down  the 
hill,  having  seen  the  race  from  afar  ;  and  all  collected  on 
the  piazza  while  Dan  "yanked"  the  cover  off  the  big 
box  the  express  had  "  dumped"  before  the  door  — to 
borrow  his  own  words. 

Dan  usually  travelled  in  light  marching  order,  and 
hated  to  have  more  luggage  than  he  could  carry  in  his 
well-worn  valise.  But  now  that  he  had  a  little  money 
of  his  own,  he  had  cumbered  himself  with  a  collection 
of  trophies  won  by  his  bow  and  spear,  and  brought 
them  home  to  bestow  upon  his  friends. 


VACATION,  91 

**  We  shall  be  devoured  with  moths,"  thought  Mrs. 
Jo,  as  the  shaggy  head  appeared,  followed  by  a  wolf- 
skin rug  for  her  feet,  a  bear-skin  ditto  for  the  Professor's 
study,  and  Indian  garments  bedecked  with  foxes'  tails 
for  the  boys. 

All  nice  and  warm  for  a  July  day,  but  received 
with  delight  nevertheless.  Ted  and  Josie  immediately 
"  dressed  up,"  learned  the  war-whoop,  and  proceeded 
to  astonish  their  friends  by  a  series  of  skirmishes  about 
the  house  and  grounds,  with  tomahawks  and  bows  and 
arrows,  till  weariness  produced  a  lull.  Gay  birds'  wings, 
plumy  pampas  grass,  strings  of  wampum,  and  pretty 
work  in  beads,  bark,  and  feathers,  pleased  the  girls. 
Minerals,  arrow-heads,  and  rude  sketches  interested  the 
Professor  ;  and  when  the  box  was  empty,  Dan  gave  Mr. 
Laurie,  as  his  gift,  several  plaintive  Indian  songs  written 
on  birch-bark. 

"  We  only  want  a  tent  over  us  to  be  quite  perfect. 
I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  give  you  parched  corn  and  dried 
meat  for  dinner,  my  braves.  Nobocly  will  want  lamb 
and  green  peas  after  this  splendid  pow-wow,"  said  Mrs. 
Jo,  surveying  the  picturesque  confusion  of  the  long  hall, 
where  people  lay  about  on  the  rugs,  all  more  or  less 
bedecked  with  feathers,  moccasins,  or  beads. 

"Moose  noses,  buffalo  tongues,  bear  steaks,  and 
roasted  marrow-bones  would  be  the  thing,  but  I  don't 
mind  a  change ;  so  bring  on  your  baa-baa  and  green 
meat,"  answered  Dan  from  the  box,  where  he  sat  in 
state  like  a  chief  among  his  tribe,  with  the  great  hound 
at  his  feet. 

The  girls  began  to  clear  up,  but  made  little  head- 
way ;   for  everything  they  touched  had  a  story,  and  all 


92  JO'S  BOYS. 

were  thrilling,  comical,  or  wild ;  so  they  found  it  hard 
to  settle  to  their  work,  till  Dan  was  carried  off  by  Mr 
Laurie. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  summer  holiday,  and 
it  was  curious  to  see  what  a  pleasant  little  stir  Dan's  and 
Emil's  coming  made  in  the  quiet  life  of  the  studious 
community ;    for  they  seemed  to  bring  a  fresh  breeze 
with   them   that   enlivened    every  one.     Many  of  the 
collegians   remained   during   vacation;    and   Plumfield 
and  Parnassus  did  their  best  to  make  these  days  pleas- 
ant for  them,  since  most  came  from  distant  States,  were 
poor,  and  had  few  opportunities  but  this  for  culture  or 
amusement.     Emil  was   hail-fellow-well-met  with  men 
and  maids,   and  went   rollicking  about  in  true  sailor 
fashion  ;  but  Dan  stood  rather  in  awe  of  the  "  fair  girl- 
graduates,"   and  was  silent  when  among   them,   eying 
them  as  an  eagle  might  a  flock  of  doves.     He  got  on 
better  with  the  young  men,  and  was  their  hero  at  once. 
Their  admiration  for  his  manly  accomplishments  did  him 
good;  because  he  felt  his  educational  defects  keenly, 
and  often  wondered  if  he  could  find  anything  in  books 
to  satisfy  him  as  thoroughly  as  did  the  lessons  he  was 
learning   from  Nature's    splendidly  illustrated  volume. 
In  spite  of  his  silence,  the  girls  found  out  his  good 
qualities,  and  regarded  "  the  Spaniard,"  as  they  named 
him,  with  great  favor ;    for  his  black  eyes  were  more 
eloquent  than  his  tongue,  and  the  kind  creatures  tried 
to  show  their  friendly  interest  in  many  charming  ways. 

He  saw  this,  and  endeavored  to  be  worthy  of  it,  — 
curbing  his  free  speech,  toning  down  his  rough  man- 
ners, and  watching  the  effect  of  all  he  said  and  did 
anxious  to  make  a  good  impression.    The  social  atmos. 


VACATION.  93 

phere  warmed  his  lonely  heart,  the  culture  excited  him 
to  do  his  best,  and  the  changes  which  had  taken  place 
during  his  absence,  both  in  himself  and  others,  made  the 
old  home  seem  like  a  new  world.  After  the  life  in  Cali- 
fornia, it  was  sweet  and  restful  to  be  here,  with  these  fa- 
miliar faces  round  him,  helping  him  to  forget  much  that 
he  regretted,  and  to  resolve  to  deserve  more  entirely 
the  confidence  of  these  good  fellows,  the  respect  of 
these  innocent  girls. 

So  there  was  riding,  rowing,  and  picnicking  by  day, 
music,  dancing,  and  plays  by  night ;  and  every  one 
said  there  had  not  been  so  gay  a  vacation  for  }Tears. 
Bess  kept  her  promise,  and  let  the  dust  gather  on  her 
beloved  clay  while  she  went  pleasuring  with  her  mates 
or  studied  music  with  her  father,  who  rejoiced  over  the 
fresh  roses  in  her  cheeks  and  the  laughter  which  chased 
away  the  dreamy  look  she  used  to  wear.  Josie  quar- 
relled less  with  Ted  ;  for  Dan  had  a  way  of  looking  at 
her  which  quelled  her  instantly,  and  had  almost  as 
good  an  effect  upon  her  rebellious  cousin.  But  Octoo 
did  even  more  for  the  lively  3-outh,  who  found  that  her 
charms  entirely  eclipsed  those  of  the  bicycle  which  had 
been  his  heart's  delight  before.  Early  and  late  he  rode 
this  untiring  beast,  and  began  to  gain  flesh,  —  to  the 
great  joy  of  his  mother,  who  feared  that  her  bean-stalk 
was  growing  too  fast  for  health. 

Demi,  finding  business  dull,  solaced  his  leisure  by 
photographing  everybody  he  could  induce  to  sit  or 
stand  to  him,  producing  some  excellent  pictures  among 
many  failures  ;  for  he  had  a  pretty  taste  in  grouping, 
and  endless  patience.  He  might  be  said  to  view  the 
world  through   the  lens   of  his   camera,  and   seemed 


94  JO'S  BOYS. 

to  enjoy  himself  very  much  squinting  at  his  fellow* 
beings  from  under  a  bit  of  black  cambric.  Dan  was  a 
treasure  to  him ;  for  he  took  well,  and  willingly  posed 
in  his  Mexican  costume,  with  horse  and  hound,  and  all 
wanted  copies  of  these  effective  photographs. 

Bess,  also,  was  a  faArorite  sitter ;  and  Demi  received 
a  prize  at  the  Amateur  Photographic  Exhibition  for 
one  of  his  cousin  with  all  her  pretty  hair  about  her 
face,  which  rose  from  the  cloud  of  white  lace  draping 
the  shoulders.  These  were  freely  handed  round  hy  the 
proud  artist ;  and  one  copy  had  a  tender  little  history 
yet  to  be  told. 

Nat  was  snatching  every  minute  he  could  get  with 
Daisy  before  the  long  parting  ;  and  Mrs.  Meg  relented 
somewhat,  feeling  sure  that  absence  would  quite  cure 
this  unfortunate  fancy.  Daisy  said  little  ;  but  her  gen- 
tle face  was  sad  when  she  was  alone,  and  a  few  quiet 
tears  dropped  on  the  handkerchiefs  she  marked  so 
daintily  with  her  own  hair.  She  was  sure  Nat  would 
not  forget  her ;  and  life  looked  rather  forlorn  without 
the  dear  fellow  who  had  been  her  friend  since  the  days 
of  patty-pans  and  confidences  in  the  willow-tree.  She 
was  an  old-fashioned  daughter,  dutiful  and  docile,  with 
such  love  and  reverence  for  her  mother  that  her  will 
was  law ;  and  if  love  was  forbidden,  friendship  must 
suffice.  So  she  kept  her  little  sorrow  to  herself,  smiled 
cheerfully  at  Nat,  and  made  his  last  days  of  home-life 
very  happy  with  ever}'  comfort  and  pleasure  she  could 
give,  from  sensible  advice  and  sweet  words  to  a  well- 
filled  work-bag  for  his  bachelor  establishment  and  a 
box  of  goodies  for  the  vo}-age. 

Tom  and  Nan   took  all  the  time  they  could  spar© 


VACATION.  95 

from  their  studies  to  enjoy  high  jinks  at  Plumfield  with 
their  old  friends  ;  for  Emil's  next  voyage  was  to  be  a 
long  one,  Nat's  absence  was  uncertain,  and  no  one  ever 
knew  when  Dan  would  turn  up  again.  They  all  seemed 
to  feel  that  life  was  beginning  to  grow  serious ;  and 
even  while  they  enjo}Ted  those  lovely  summer  days  to- 
gether they  were  conscious  that  they  were  children  no 
longer,  and  often  in  the  pauses  of  their  fun  talked 
soberly  of  their  plans  and  hopes,  as  if  anxious  to  know 
and  help  one  another  before  they  drifted  further  apart 
on  their  different  wa}Ts. 

A  few  weeks  were  all  the}^  had  ;  then  the  ' '  Brenda  " 
was  ready,  Nat  was  to  sail  from  New  York,  and  Dan 
went  along  to  see  him  off;  for  his  own  plans  fer- 
mented in  his  head,  and  he  was  eager  to  be  up  and 
doing.  A  farewell  dance  was  given  on  Parnassus  in 
honor  of  the  travellers,  and  all  turned  out  in  their  best 
array  and  gayest  spirits.  George  and  Dolly  came  with 
the  latest  Harvard  airs  and  graces,  radiant  to  behold, 
in  dress-suits  and  ' '  crushed  hats,"  as  Josie  called  the 
especial  pride  and  joy  of  their  boyish  souls.  Jack 
and  Ned  sent  regrets  and  best  wishes,  and  no  one 
mourned  their  absence ;  for  they  were  among  what 
Mrs.  Jo  called  her  failures.  Poor  Tom  got  into  trouble, 
as  usual,  by  deluging  his  head  with  some  highly  scented 
preparation  in  the  vain  hope  of  making  his  tight  curls 
lie  flat  and  smooth,  as  was  the  style.  Unhappily,  his 
rebellious  crop  only  kinked  the  closer,  and  the  odor  of 
many  barbers'-shops  clung  to  him  in  spite  of  his  frantic 
efforts  to  banish  it.  Nan  would  n't  allow  him  near  her, 
Ind  flapped  her  fan  vigorously  whenever  he  was  in 
Sight ;  which  cut  him  to  the  heart,  and  made  him  feel 


96  JO'S  BOYS. 

like  the  Peri  shut  out  from  Paradise.  Of  course  his 
mates  jeered  at  him,  and  nothing  but  the  unquenchable 
jollity  of  his  nature  kept  him  from  despair. 

Emil  was  resplendent  in  his  new  uniform,  and 
danced  with  an  abandon  which  only  sailors  know.  His 
pumps  seemed  to  be  everywhere,  and  his  partners  soon 
lost  breath  trying  to  keep  up  with  him ;  but  the  girls  all 
declared  he  steered  like  an  angel,  and  in  spite  of  his 
pace  no  collisions  took  place ;  so  he  was  happy,  and 
found  no  lack  of  damsels  to  ship  with  him. 

Having  no  dress-suit,  Dan  had  been  coaxed  to  wear 
his  Mexican  costume,  and  feeling  at  ease  in  the  man}T- 
buttoned  trousers,  loose  jacket,  and  gay  sash,  flung  his 
serape  over  his  shoulder  with  a  flourish  and  looked  his 
best,  doing  great  execution  with  his  long  spurs,  as  he 
taught  Josie  strange  steps  or  rolled  his  black  e}Tes  ad- 
miringly after  certain  blonde  damsels  whom  he  dared 
not  address. 

The  mammas  sat  in  the  alcove,  supplying  pins,  smiles, 
and  kindly  words  to  all,  especially  the  awkward  youths 
new  to  such  scenes,  and  the  bashful  girls  conscious 
of  faded  muslins  and  cleaned  gloves.  It  was  pleasant 
to  see  stately  Mrs.  Amy  promenade  on  the  arm  of  a 
tall  countiy  bo}',  with  thick  boots  and  a  big  forehead, 
or  Mrs.  Jo  dance  like  a  girl  with  a  shy  fellow  whose 
arms  went  like  pump-handles,  and  whose  face  was  scar- 
let with  confusion  and  pride  at  the  honor  of  treading 
on  the  toes  of  the  president's  wife.  Mrs.  Meg  always 
had  room  on  her  sofa  for  two  or  three  girls,  and  Mr. 
Laurie  devoted  himself  to  these  plain,  poorly  dressed 
damsels  with  a  kindly  grace  that  won  their  hearts  and 
made  them  happy.     The  good  Professor  circulated  like 


VACATION.  97 

refreshments,  and  his  cheerful  face  shone  on  all  alike, 
while  Mr.  March  discussed  Greek  comedy  in  the  study 
with  such  serious  gentlemen  as  never  unbent  their 
mighty  minds  to  frivolous  jo}Ts. 

The  long  music-room,  parlor,  hall,  and  piazza  were 
full  of  white-gowned  maidens  with  attendant  shadows  ; 
the  air  was  full  of  lively  voices,  and  hearts  and  feet 
went  lightly  together  as  the  home  band  pla}7ed  vigor- 
ously,  and  the  friendly  moon  did  her  best  to  add 
enchantment  to  the  scene. 

"  Pin  me  up,  Meg ;  that  dear  Dunbar  boj7  has  nearly 
rent  me  "  in  sunder,"  as  Mr.  Peggotty  would  say.  But 
didn't  he  enjoy  himself,  bumping  against  his  fellow- 
men  and  swinging  me  round  like  a  mop?  On  these 
occasions  I  find  that  I  'm  not  as  young  as  I  was,  nor  as 
light  of  foot.  In  ten  years  more  we  shall  be  meal-bags, 
sister  ;  so  be  resigned."  And  Mrs.  Jo  subsided  into  a 
corner,  much  dishevelled  by  her  benevolent  exertions. 

"I  know  I  shall  be  stout ;  but  you  won't  keep  still 
long  enough  to  get  much  flesh  on  your  bones,  d^  ir ;  and 
Amy  will  always  keep  her  lovely  figure.  She  looks  about 
eighteen  to-night,  in  her  white  gown  and  roses,"  an- 
swered Meg,  busily  pinning  up  one  sister's  torn  frills, 
while  her  eyes  fondly  followed  the  other's  graceful 
movements ;  for  Meg  still  adored  Amy  in  the  old 
fashion. 

It  was  one  of  the  famity  jokes  that  Jo  was  getting 
fat,  and  she  kept  it  up,  though  as  yet  she  had  only 
acquired  a  matronly  outline,  which  was  very  becoming. 
They  were  laughing  over  the  impending  double  chins, 
when  Mr.  Laurie  came  off  dut}T  for  a  moment. 

"  Repairing  damages  as  usual,  Jo?  You  never  could 
7 


98  JO'S  BOYS. 

take  a  little  gentle  exercise  without  returning  in  rags. 
Come  and  have  a  quiet  stroll  with  me  and  cool  oft 
before  supper.  I  've  a  series  of  pretty  tableaux  to  show 
you  while  Meg  listens  to  the  raptures  of  lispiug  Miss 
Carr,  whom  I  made  happy  by  giving  her  Demi  for  a 
partner." 

As  he  spoke,  Laurie  led  Jo  to  the  music-room,  nearly 
empt}^  now  after  a  dance  which  sent  the  3~oung  people 
into  garden  and  hall.  Pausing  before  the  first  of  the 
four  long  windows  that  opened  on  a  very  wide  piazza, 
he  pointed  to  a  group  outside,  saying,  "  The  name  of 
this  is  i  Jack  Ashore.'  " 

A  pair  of  long,  blue  legs,  ending  in  very  neat  pumps, 
hung  from  the  veranda  roof  among  the  vines  ;  and  roses, 
gathered  by  unseen  hands,  evidently  appertaining  to 
aforesaid  legs,  were  being  dropped  into  the  laps  of  sev- 
eral girls  perched  like  a  flock  of  white  birds  on  the  rail- 
ing below  ;  while  a  manly  voice  ' '  fell  like  a  falling  star," 
as  it  sung  this  pensive  ditty  to  a  most  appreciative 
audience :  — 

MARY'S   DREAM. 

The  moon  had  climbed  the  eastern  hill 

Which  rises  o'er  the  sands  of  Dee, 
And  from  its  highest  summit  shed 

A  silver  light  on  tower  and  tree, 
When  Mary  laid  her  down  to  sleep 

(Her  thoughts  on  Sandy  far  at  sea) ; 
When  soft  and  low  a  voice  was  heard, 

Saying,  "  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  me." 

She  from  her  pillow  gently  raised 
Her  head,  to  see  who  there  might  be. 

And  saw  young  Sandy,  shivering,  stand 
With  visage  paie  and  hollow  e'e. 


VACATION.  99 

u  O  Mary  dear,  cold  is  my  clay  ; 

It  lies  beneath  the  stormy  sea ; 
Far,  far  from  thee,  I  sleep  in  death. 

Dear  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  me. 

"  Three  stormy  nights  and  stormy  days 

"We  tossed  upon  the  raging  main. 
And  long  we  strove  our  bark  to  save  ; 

But  all  our  striving  was  in  vain. 
E'en  then,  when  terror  chilled  my  blood, 

My  heart  was  filled  with  love  of  thee 
The  storm  is  past,  and  I'm  at  rest; 

So,  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  me. 

"  O  maiden  dear,  yourself  prepare ; 

We  soon  shall  meet  upon  that  shore 
Where  love  is  free  from  doubt  and  care, 

And  you  and  I  shall  part  no  more." 
Loud  crew  the  cock,  the  shadow  fled ; 

No  more  her  Sandy  did  she  see  ; 
But  soft  the  passing  spirit  said, 

"  Sweet  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  me." 

"  The  constant  jollity  of  that  boy  is  worth  a  fortune 
to  him.  He'll  never  sink  with  such  a  buoyant  spirit  to 
keep  turn  afloat  through  life,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  as  the 
roses  were  tossed  back  with  much  applause  when  the 
song  ended. 

"  Not  he  ;  and  it's  a  blessing  to  be  grateful  for,  isn't 
it?  We  moody  people  know  its  worth.  Glad  you  like 
my  first  tableau.  Come  and  see  number  two.  Hope 
it  isn't  spoilt;  it  was  very  pretty  just  now.  This  is 
1  Othello  telling  his  adventures  to  Desdemona.'  " 

The  second  window  framed  a  very  picturesque  group 
of  three.  Mr.  March  in  an  arm-chair,  with  Bess  on  a 
cushion  at  his  feet,  was  listening  to  Dan,  who,  leaning 


100  JO'S  BOYS. 

against  a  pillar,  was  talking  with  unusual  animation. 
The  old  man  was  in  shadow,  but  little  Desdemona  was 
looking  up  with  the  moonlight  full  upon  her  into  young 
Othello's  face,  quite  absorbed  in  the  stor}-  he  was  telling 
so  well.  The  gay  drapery  over  Dan's  shoulder,  his  dark 
coloring,  and  the  gesture  of  his  arm  made  the  picture 
very  striking,  and  both  spectators  enjoyed  it  with  silent 
pleasure,  till  Mrs.  Jo  said  in  a  quick  whisper,  — 

' '  I  'm  glad  he 's  going  awa}\  He  's  too  picturesque 
to  have  here  among  so  many  romantic  girls.  Afraid 
his  '  grand,  gloomy,  and  peculiar '  style  will  be  too 
much  for  our  simple  maids." 

1 '  No  danger ;  Dan  is  in  the  rough  as  yet,  and  always 
will  be,  I  fancy  ;  though  he  is  improving  in  many  ways. 
How  well  Queenie  looks  in  that  soft  light ! " 

"  Dear  little  Goldilocks  looks  well  every  where."  And 
with  a  backward  glance  full  of  pride  and  fondness, 
Mrs.  Jo  went  on.  But  that  scene  returned  to  her  long 
afterward  and  her  own  prophetic  words  also. 

Number  three  was  a  tragical  tableau  at  first  sight; 
and  Mr.  Laurie  stifled  a  laugh  as  he  whispered  "  The 
Wounded  Knight,"  pointing  to  Tom  with  his  head  en- 
veloped in  a  large  handkerchief,  as  he  knelt  before  Nan, 
who  was  extracting  a  thorn  or  splinter  from  the  palm 
of  his  hand  with  great  skill,  to  judge  from  the  patient's 
blissful  expression  of  countenance. 

"  Do  I  hurt  you?"  she  asked,  turning  the  hand  to 
the  moonlight  for  a  better  view. 

"  Not  a  bit ;  dig  away  ;  I  like  it,"  answered  Tom,  re- 
gardless of  his  aching  knees  and  the  damage  done  his 
best  trousers. 

" 1  won't  keep  you  long." 


VACATION.  101 

"  Hours,  if  you  please.     Never  so  happy  as  here." 

Quite  unmoved  by  this  tender  remark,  Nan  put  on  a 
pair  of  large,  round-eyed  glasses,  saying  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  tone,  "  Now  I  see  it.  Only  a  splinter,  and  there 
it  is." 

"  My  hand  is  bleeding  ;  won't  you  bind  it  up?"  asked 
Tom,  wishing  to  prolong  the  situation. 

"  Nonsense  ;  suck  it.  Only  take  care  of  it  to-morrow 
if  you  dissect.     Don't  want  any  more  blood-poisoning." 

"That  was  the  only  time  you  were  kind  to  me. 
Wish  I  'd  lost  my  arm." 

' '  I  wish  you  'd  lost  }T>ur  head ;  it  smells  more  like- 
turpentine  and  kerosene  than  ever.  Do  take  a  run  in 
the  garden  and  air  it." 

Fearing  to  betray  themselves  by  laughter,  the 
watchers  went  on,  leaving  the  Knight  to  rush  away  in 
despair,  and  the  Lady  to  bury  her  nose  in  the  cup  of  a 
tall  lily  for  refreshment. 

"  Poor  Tom,  his  fate  is  a  hard  one,  and  he's  wasting 
his  time  !  Do  advise  him  to  quit  philandering,  and  go 
to  work,  Jo." 

"I  have,  Tedd}r,  often;  but  it  will  take  some  great 
shock  to  make  that  boy  wise.  I  wait  with  interest  to 
see  what  it  will  be.     Bless  me  !  what  is  all  this  ?  " 

She  might  well  ask ;  for  on  a  rustic  stool  stood  Ted 
trying  to  pose  on  one  foot,  with  the  other  extended,  and 
both  hands  waving  in  the  air.  Josie,  with  several 
young  mates,  was  watching  his  contortions  with  deep 
interest  as  they  talked  about  "  little  wings,"  "  gilded 
wire  twisted,"  and  a  "  cunning  skull-cap." 

"  This  might  be  called  '  Mercury  Trying  to  Fly,' "  said 
Mr.  Laurie,  as  thev  peeped  through  the  lace  curtains. 


102  JO'S  BOYS. 

1 '  Bless  the  long  legs  of  that  boy !  how  does  he  ex- 
pect to  manage  them  ?  The}7  are  planning  for  the  Owls- 
dark  Marbles,  and  a  nice  muddle  they  will  make  of  my 
gods  and  goddesses  with  no  one  to  show  them  how," 
answered  Mrs.  Jo,  enjo}Ting  this  scene  immensely. 

' '  Now,  he 's.  got  it !  "  "  That 's  perfectly  splendid !  " 
"  See  how  long  jtou  can  keep  so!"  cried  the  girls,  as 
Ted  managed  to  maintain  his  equilibrium  a  moment 
by  resting  one  toe  on  the  trellis.  Unfortunately  this 
brought  all  his  weight  on  the  other  foot ;  the  straw  seat 
of  the  stool  gave  way,  and  the  flying  Mercurj7  came 
down  with  a  crash,  amid  shrieks  of  laughter  from  the 
girls.  Being  accustomed  to  ground  and  lofty  tumbling, 
he  quickly  recovered  himself,  and  hopped  gayly  about, 
with  one  leg  through  the  stool  as  he  improvised  a  clas- 
sic jig. 

"Thanks,  for  four  nice  little  pictures.  You  have 
given  me  an  idea,  and  I  think  some  time  we  will  get 
up  regular  tableaux  of  this  sort  and  march  our  com* 
pany  round  a  set  of  dissolving  views.  New  and  strik- 
ing ;  I  '11  propose  it  to  our  manager  and  give  you  all 
the  glory,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  as  they  strolled  toward  the 
room  whence  came  the  clash  of  glass  and  china,  and 
glimpses  of  agitated  black  coats. 

Let  us  follow  the  example  of  our  old  friends  and 
stroll  about  among  the  young  people,  eavesdropping, 
so  gathering  up  various  little  threads  to  help  in  the 
weaving  of  the  stoiy.  George  and  Dolly  were  at  sup- 
per, and  having  served  the  ladies  in  their  care  stood  in 
a  corner  absorbing  nourishment  of  all  kinds  with  a  vain 
attempt  to  conceal  hearty  appetites  under  an  air  of 
vlegant  indifference. 


VACATION.  103 

"  Good  spread,  this ;  Laurence  does  things  in  style. 
First-rate  coffee,  but  no  wine,  and  that's  a  mistake, " 
said  Stuffy,  who  still  deserved  his  name,  and  was  a 
stout  youth  with  a  heavy  eye  and  bilious  complexion. 

"Bad  for  boys,  he  says.  Jove!  wish  he  could  see 
us  at  some  of  our  wines.  Don't  we  just  'splice  the 
main  brace'  as  Emil  says,"  answered  Dolly,  the  dandy, 
carefully  spreading  a  napkin  over  the  glossy  expanse  of 
shirt-front  whereon  a  diamond  stud  shone  like  a  lone 
star.  His  stutter  was  nearly  outgrown  ;  but  he,  as  well 
as  George,  spoke  in  the  tone  of  condescension,  which, 
with  the  blase  airs  they  assumed,  made  a  very  funny 
contrast  to  their  youthful  faces  and  foolish  remarks. 
Good-hearted  little  fellows  both,  but  top-heavy  with  the 
pride  of  being  Sophs  and  the  freedom  that  college  life 
gave  them. 

"  Little  Jo  is  getting  to  be  a  deuced  pretty  girl,  is  n't 
she?"  said  George,  with  a  long  sigh  of  satisfaction  as 
his  first  mouthful  of  ice  went  slowly  down  his  throat. 

"  H'm  —  well,  fairish.  The  Princess  is  rather  more 
to  my  taste.  I  like  'em blonde  and  queenly  and  elegant, 
don't  3Tou  know." 

"  Yes,  Jo  is  too  lively;  might  as  well  dance  with  a 
grasshopper.  I  've  tried  her,  and  she 's  one  too  many 
for  me.  Miss  Perry  is  a  nice,  easy-going  girl.  Got 
her  for  the  german." 

"  You  '11  never  be  a  dancing  man.  Too  lazy.  Now 
I'll  undertake  to  steer  any  girl  and  dance  down  any 
fellow  you  please.  Dancing's  my  force."  And  Dolly 
glanced  from  his  trim  feet  to  his  fiasnmg  gem  with  the 
defiant  air  of  a  young  turkey-cock  on  parade. 

"  Miss  Grey  is  looking  for  you.     Wants  more  grub. 


104  JO'S  BOYS. 

Just  see  if  Miss  Nelson's  plate  is  empty,  there  's  a  good 
fellow.  Can't  eat  ice  in  a  hurry."  And  George  re- 
mained in  his  safe  corner,  while  Dolly  struggled  through 
the  crowd  to  do  his  duty,  coming  back  in  a  fume,  with 
a  splash  of  salad  dressing  on  his  coat-cuff. 

' '  Confound  these  country  chaps  !  they  go  blundering 
round  like  so  many  dor-bugs,  and  make  a  deuce  of  a 
mesSc  Better  stick  to  books  and  not  try  to  be  society 
men.  Can't  do  it.  Beastly  stain.  Give  it  a  rub,  and 
let  me  bolt  a  mouthful,  I  'm  starved.  Never  saw  girls 
eat  such  a  lot.  It  proves  that  they  ought  not  to  study 
so  much.  Never  liked  co-ed,"  growled  Dolly,  much 
ruffled  in  spirit. 

"  So  they  do.  'T  is  n't  ladylike.  Ought  to  be  satis- 
fied with  an  ice  and  a  bit  of  cake,  and  eat  it  prettily. 
Don't  like  to  see  a  girl  feed.  We  hard-working  men 
need  it,  and,  by  Jove,  I  mean  to  get  some  more  of  that 
meringue  if  it 's  not  all  gone.  Here,  waiter !  bring 
along  that  dish  over  there,  and  be  livery,"  commanded 
Stuffy,  poking  a  young  man  in  a  rather  shabby  dress- 
suit,  who  was  passing  with  a  tray  of  glasses. 

His  order  was  obeyed  promptly ;  but  George's  appe- 
tite was  taken  away  the  next  moment  by  Dolly's  ex- 
claiming, as  he  looked  up  from  his  damaged  coat,  with 
a  scandalized  face,  — 

"  You  've  put  your  foot  in  it  now,  old  boy !  that's 
Morton,  Mr.  Bhaer's  crack  man.  Knows  everything, 
no  end  of  a  '  dig/  and  bound  to  cany  off  all  the  honors. 
You  won't  hear  the  last  of  it  in  a  hurry."  And  Dolly 
laughed  so  heartily  that  a  spoonful  of  ice  flew  upon  the 
head  of  a  lady  sitting  below  him,  and  got  him  into  a 
scrape  also. 


VACATION.  105 

Leaving  them  to  their  despair,  let  us  listen  to  the 
whispered  chat  of  two  girls  comfortably  seated  in  a 
recess  waiting  till  their  escorts  were  fed. 

"  I  do  think  the  Laurences  give  lovely  parties.  Don't 
you  enjoy  them?"  asked  the  younger,  looking  about 
her  with  the  eager  air  of  one  unused  to  this  sort  of 
pleasure. 

"Very  much,  only  I  never  feel  as  if  I  was  dressed 
right.  My  things  seemed  elegant  at  home,  and  I 
thought  I  'd  be  over  over-dressed  if  anything ;  but  I 
look  countrified  and  dowdy  here.  No  time  or  money 
to  change  now,  even  if  I  knew  how  to  do  it,"  answered 
the  other,  glancing  anxiously  at  her  bright  pink  silk 
gown,  trimmed  with  cheap  lace. 

"  You  must  get  Mrs.  Brooke  to  tell  you  how  to  fix 
your  things.  She  was  very  kind  to  me.  I  had  a  green 
silk,  and  it  looked  so  cheap  and  horrid  by  the  side  of 
the  nice  dresses  here  I  felt  regularly  unhappy  about  it, 
and  asked  her  how  much  a  dress  like  one  Mrs.  Laurence 
had  would  cost.  That  looked  so  simple  and  elegant  I 
thought  it  would  n't  be  costly ;  but  it  was  India  mull 
and  Valenciennes  lace,  so  of  course  I  could  n't  have  it. 
Then  Mrs.  Brooke  said,  '  Get  some  muslin  to  cover 
the  green  silk,  and  wear  hops  or  some  white  flowers, 
instead  of  pink,  in  your  hair,  and  you  will  have  a  pretty 
suit.'  Isn't  it  lovely  and  becoming?"  And  Miss 
Burton  surveyed  herself  with  girlish  satisfaction ;  for  a 
little  taste  had  softened  the  harsh  green,  and  hop-bells 
became  her  red  hair  better  than  roses. 

44  It's  sweet:  I've  been  admiring  it.  I'll  do  mine 
so  and  ask  about  my  purple  one.  Mrs.  Brooke  has 
helped  me  to  get  rid  of  my  headaches,  and  Mary  Clay's 


106  JO'S  BOYS, 

dyspepsia  is  all  gone  since  she  gave  up  coffee  and  hot 
bread." 

"Mrs.  Laurence  advised  me  to  walk  and  run  and  use 
the  g}Tmnasium  to  cure  my  round  shoulders  and  open 
my  chest,  and  I  'm  a  much  better  figure  than  I  was." 

' '  Did  you  know  that  Mr.  Laurence  pays  all  Amelia 
Merrill's  bills?  Her  father  failed,  and  she  was  heart- 
broken at  having  to  leave  college ;  but  that  splendid 
man  just  stepped  in  and  made  it  all  right." 

"Yes,  and  Professor  Bhaer  has  several  of  the  bo3Ts 
down  at  his  house  evenings  to  help  them  along  so  they 
can  keep  up  with  the  rest ;  and  Mrs.  Bhaer  took  care 
of  Charles  Macke}-  herself  when  he  had  a  fever  last 
3Tear.  1  do  think  they  are  the  best  and  kindest  people 
in  the  world." 

"  So  do  I,  and  nry  time  here  will  be  the  happiest  and 
most  useful  years  of  nry  life." 

And  both  girls  forgot  their  gowns  and  their  suppers 
for  a  moment  to  look  with  grateful,  affectionate  eyes  at 
the  friends  who  tried  to  care  for  bodies  and  for  souls 
as  well  as  minds. 

Now  come  to  a  lively  party  supping  on  the  stairs, 
girls  like  foam  at  the  top,  and  a  substratum  of  youths 
below,  where  the  heaviest  particles  always  settle.  Emil, 
who  never  sat  if  he  could  climb  or  perch,  adorned  the 
newel-post ;  Tom,  Nat,  Demi,  and  Dan  were  camped 
on  the  steps,  eating  busily,  as  their  ladies  were  well 
served  and  they  had  earned  a  moment's  rest,  which 
they  enjoyed  with  their  e}*es  fixed  on  the  pleasing  pros- 
pect above  them. 

"  I  'm  so  sorry  the  boys  are  going.  It  will  be  dread- 
fully dull  without  them.     Now  they  have  stopped  teas- 


VACATION.  107 

ing  and  are  polite,  I  really  enjo}T  them,"  said  Nan,  who 
felt  unusually  gracious  to-night  as  Tom's  mishap  kept 
him  from  annoying  her. 

"  So  do  I ;  and  Bess  was  mourning  about  it  to-day, 
though  as  a  general  thing  she  does  n't  like  boys  unless 
they  are  models  of  elegance.  She  has  been  doing  Dan's 
head,  and  it  is  not  quite  finished.  I  never  saw  her  so 
interested  in  amT  work,  and  it's  very  well  done.  He  is 
so  striking  and  big  he  always  makes  me  think  of  the 
Dying  Gladiator  or  some  of  those  antique  creatures. 
There's  Bess  now.  Dear  child,  how  sweet  she  looks 
to-night ! "  answered  Daisy,  waving  her  hand  as  the 
Princess  went  hy  with  Grandpa  on  her  arm. 

"  I  never  thought  he  would  turn  out  so  well.  Don't 
you  remember  how  we  used  to  call  him  '  the  bad  bo}r,' 
and  be  sure  he  would  become  a  pirate  or  something 
awful  because  he  glared  at  us  and  swore  sometimes? 
Now  he  is  the  handsomest  of  all  the  boys,  and  very 
entertaining  with  his  stories  and  plans.  I  like  him 
very  much ;  he 's  so  big  and  strong  and  independent. 
I'm  tired  of  molly-coddles  and  book- worms,"  said  Nan, 
in  her  decided  way. 

"  Not  handsomer  than  Nat !  "  cried  loyal  Daisy,  con- 
trasting two  faces  below,  one  unusually  gay,  the  other 
sentimentally  sober  even  in  the  act  of  munching  cake. 
"  I  like  Dan,  and  am  glad  he  is  doing  well ;  but  he 
tires  me,  and  I  'm  still  a  little  afraid  of  him.  Quiet 
people  suit  me  best." 

' '  Life  is  a  fight,  and  I  like  a  good  soldier.  Boys 
take  things  too  easity,  don't  see  how  serious  it  all  is 
and  go  to  work  in  earnest.  Look  at  that  absurd  Tom, 
wasting  his  time  and  making  an  object  of  himself  just 


108  JO'S  BOYS. 

because  he  can't  have  what  he  wants,  like  a  baby  crying 
for  the  moon.  I  've  no  patience  with  such  nonsense," 
scolded  Nan,  looking  down  at  the  jovial  Thomas,  who 
was  playfully  putting  macaroons  in  Emil's  shoes,  and 
trying  to  beguile  his  exile  as  best  he  could. 

' '  Most  girls  would  be  touched  by  such  fidelity.  I 
think  it 's  beautiful,"  said  Daisy  behind  her  fan ;  for 
other  girls  sat  just  below. 

"  You  are  a  sentimental  goose  and  not  a  judge.  Nat 
will  be  twice  the  man  when  he  comes  back  after  his 
trip.  I  wish  Tom  was  going  with  him.  My  idea  is 
that  if  we  girls  have  any  influence  we  should  use  it  for 
the  good  of  these  boys,  and  not  pamper  them  up,  mak- 
ing slaves  of  ourselves  and  tyrants  of  them.  Let  them 
prove  what  they  can  do  and  be  before  thej^  ask  any- 
thing of  us,  and  give  us  a  chance  to  do  the  same.  Then 
we  know  where  we  are,  and  shall  not  make  mistakes  to 
mourn  over  all  our  lives." 

"Hear,  hear!"  cried  Alice  Heath,  who  was  a  girl 
after  Nan's  own  heart,  and  had  chosen  a  career,  like  a 
brave  and  sensible  young  woman.  "  Only  give  us  a 
chance,  and  have  patience  till  we  can  do  our  best.  Now 
we  are  expected  to  be  as  wise  as  men  who  have  had 
generations  of  all  the  help  there  is,  and  we  scarcely 
anything.  Let  us  have  equal  opportunities,  and  in 
a  few  generations  we  will  see  what  the  judgment  is.  I 
like  justice,  and  we  get  very  little  of  it." 

"Still  shouting  the  battle  cry  of  freedom?"  asked 
Demi,  peering  through  the  banisters  at  this  moment. 
"  Up  with  your  flag  !  I  '11  stand  b}T  and  lend  a  hand  if 
you  want  it.  With  you  and  Nan  to  lead  the  van,  I 
think  you  won't  need  much  help." 


VACATION.  109 

«'  You  are  a  great  comfort,  Demi,  and  I  '11  call  on 
you  in  all  emergencies  ;  for  you  are  an  honest  boy,  and 
don't  forget  that  you  owe  much  to  your  mother  and 
your  sisters  and  your  aunts,"  continued  Nan.  "  I  do 
like  men  who  come  out  frankly  and  own  that  the}'  are 
not  gods.  How  can  we  think  them  so  when  such  awful 
mistakes  are  being  made  all  the  time  by  these  great  crea- 
tures?   See  them  sick,  as  I  do,  then  you  know  them." 

"Don't  hit  us  when  we  are  down;  be  merciful,  and 
set  us  up  to  bless  and  believe  in  you  evermore,"  pleaded 
Demi  from  behind  the  bars. 

"  We  '11  be  kind  to  you  if  you  will  be  just  to  us.  1 
don't  say  generous,  only  just.  I  went  to  a  suffrage 
debate  in  the  Legislature  last  winter ;  and  of  all  the 
feeble,  vulgar  twaddle  I  ever  heard,  that  was  the  worst ; 
and  those  men  were  our  representatives.  I  blushed  for 
them,  and  their  wives  and  mothers.  I  want  an  intelli- 
gent man  to  represent  me,  if  I  can't  do  it  myself,  not 
a  fool." 

"  Nan  is  on  the  stump.  Now  we  shall  catch  it,"  cried 
Tom,  putting  up  an  umbrella  to  shield  his  unhappy 
head ;  for  Nan's  earnest  voice  was  audible,  and  her 
indignant  eye  happened  to  rest  on  him  as  she  spoke. 

"  Go  on,  go  on !  I  '11  take  notes,  and  put  in  '  great 
applause'  liberally,"  added  Demi,  producing  his  ball- 
book  and  pencil,  with  his  Jenkins  air. 

Daisy  pinched  his  nose  through  the  bars,  and  the 
meeting  was  rather  tumultuous  for  a  moment,  for  Emil 
called,  "Avast,  avast,  here's  a  squall  to  wind'ard ; " 
Tom  applauded  wildly ;  Dan  looked  up  as  if  the  pros- 
pect of  a  fight,  even  with  words,  pleased  him,  and  Nat 
went  to  support  Demi,  as  his  position  seemed  to  be  a 


110  JO'S  BOYS. 

good  one.  At  this  crisis,  when  every  one  laughed  and 
talked  at  once,  Bess  came  floating  through  the  upper 
hall  and  looked  down  like  an  angel  of  peace  upon  the 
nois}r  group  below,  as  she  asked,  with  wondering  eyes 
and  smiling  lips,  — 

"  What  is  it?" 

"  An  indignation  meeting.  Nan  and  Alice  are  on  a 
rampage,  and  we  are  at  the  bar  to  be  tried  for  our 
lives.  Will  Your  Highness  preside  and  judge  between 
us?"  answered  Demi,  as  a  lull  at  once  took  place ;  for 
no  one  rioted  in  the  presence  of  the  Princess. 

"I'm  not  wise  enough.  I'll  sit  here  and  listen. 
Please  go  on."  And  Bess  took  her  place  above  them 
all  as  cool  and  calm  as  a  little  statue  of  Justice,  with 
fan  and  nosega}^  in  place  of  sword  and  scales. 

"  Now,  ladies,  free  your  minds,  only  spare  'us  till 
morning  ;  for  we  've  got  a  german  to  dance  as  soon  as 
every  one  is  fed,  and  Parnassus  expects  every  man  to 
do  his  duty.  Mrs.  President  Giddy-gaddy  has  the 
floor,"  said  Demi,  who  liked  this  sort  of  fun  better  than 
the  very  mild  sort  of  flirtation  which  was  allowed  at 
Plumfield,  for  the  simple  reason  that  it  could  not  be 
entire  1}'  banished,  and  is  a  part  of  all  education,  co-  or 
otherwise. 

"  I  have  only  one  thing  to  say,  and  it  is  this,"  began 
Nan,  soberly,  though  her  eyes  sparkled  with  a  mixture 
of  fun  and  earnestness.  "  I  want  to  ask  every  bo}T  of 
you  what  you  really  think  on  this  subject.  Dan  and 
Emil  have  seen  the  world  and  ought  to  know  their  own 
minds.  Tom  and  Nat  have  had  fine  examples  before 
them  for  years.  Demi  is  ours  and  we  are  proud  of  him. 
So  is   Rob.     Ted  is   a   weathercock,  and  Dolly   and 


VACATION.  Ill 

George  of  course  are  fogies  in  spite  of  the  Annex,  and 
girls  at  Girton  going  ahead  of  the  men.  Commodore, 
are  you  ready  for  the  question  ?  " 

"Ay,  ay,  skipper." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  Woman's  Suffrage?" 

"Bless  your  pretty  figger-head  !  I  do,  and  I'll  ship  a 
crew  of  girls  any  time  you  say  so.  Are  n't  they  worse 
than  a  press-gang  to  carry  a  fellow  out  of  his  moor- 
ings ?  Don't  we  all  need  one  as  pilot  to  steer  us  safe  to 
port?  and  why  shouldn't  the}T  share  our  mess  afloat  and 
ashore  since  we  are  sure  to  be  wrecked  without  'em  ?  " 

"  Good  for  you,  Emil !  Nan  will  take  you  for  first 
mate  after  that  handsome  speech,"  said  Demi,  as  the 
girls  applauded,  and  Tom  glowered. 

"  Now,  Dan,  you  love  liberty  so  well  yourself,  are 
you  willing  we  should  have  it?" 

"  All  you  can  get,  and  I  '11  fight  any  man  who 's  mean 
enough  to  say  }tou  don't  deserve  it." 

This  brief  and  forcible  reply  delighted  the  energetic 
President,  and  she  beamed  upon  the  member  from 
California,  as  she  said  briskly,  — 

' '  Nat  would  n't  dare  to  say  he  was  on  the  other  side 
even  if  he  were,  but  I  hope  he  has  made  up  his  mind  to 
pipe  for  us,  at  least  when  we  take  the  field,  and  not  be 
one  of  those  who  wait  till  the  battle  is  won,  and  then 
beat  the  drums  and  share  the  glory." 

Mrs.  Giddy-gacldy's  doubts  were  most  effectually  re- 
moved, and  her  sharp  speech  regretted,  as  Nat  looked 
up  blushing,  but  with  a  new  sort  of  manliness  in 
face  and  manner,  saying,  in  a  tone  that  touched  them 
all,— 

"  I  should  be  the  most  ungrateful  fellow  alive  if  I 


112  JO'S  BOYS. 

did  not  love,  honor,  and  serve  women  with  all  my  heart 
and  might,  for  to  them  I  owe  everything  I  am  or  ever 
shall  be." 

Daisy  clapped  her  hands,  and  Bess  threw  her  bouquet 
into  Nat's  lap,  while  the  other  girls  waved  their  fans, 
well  pleased ;  for  real  feeling  made  his  little  speech 
eloquent. 

"  Thomas  B.  Bangs,  come  into  court  and  tell  the 
truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  if 
you  can,"  commanded  Nan,  with  a  rap  to  call  the 
meeting  to  order. 

Tom  shut  the  umbrella,  and  standing  up  raised  his 
hand,  saying  solemnly,  — 

•"  I  believe  in  suffrage  of  all  kinds.  I  adore  all 
women,  and  will  die  for  them  at  any  moment  if  it  will 
help  the  cause." 

"  Living  and  working  for  it  is  harder,  and  therefore 
more  honorable.  Men  are  alwajs  ready  to  die  for  us, 
but  not  to  make  our  lives  worth  having.  Cheap  senti- 
ment and  bad  logic.  You  will  pass,  Tom,  only  don't 
twaddle.  Now,  having  taken  the  sense  of  the  meeting 
we  will  adjourn,  as  the  hour  for  festive  gymnastics  has 
arrived.  I  am  glad  to  see  that  old  Plum  has  given  six 
true  men  to  the  world,  and  hope  they  will  continue  to 
be  stanch  to  her  and  the  principles  she  has  taught 
them,  wherever  they  may  go.  Now,  girls,  don't  sit  in 
draughts,  and,  boj-s,  beware  of  ice- water  when  you  are 
warm." 

With  this  characteristic  close  Nan  retired  from  office, 
and  the  girls  went  to  enjoy  one  of  the  few  rights 
allowed  them. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

LAST  WORDS. 

THE  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  a  goodly  troop  of 
young  and  old  set  forth  to  church,  —  some  driv- 
ing, some  walking,  all  enjo}Ting  the  lovely  weather  and 
the  happy  quietude  which  comes  to  refresh  us  when  the 
work  and  worry  of  the  week  are  over.  Daisy  had  a 
headache  ;  and  Aunt  Jo  remained  at  home  to  keep  her 
company,  knowing  very  well  that  the  worst  ache  was 
in  the  tender  heart  struggling  dutifully  against  the  love 
that  grew  stronger  as  the  parting  drew  nearer. 

"  Daisy  knows  my  wishes,  and  I  trust  her.  You 
must  keep  an  eye  on  Nat,  and  let  him  clearly  under- 
stand that  there  is  to  be  no  '  lovering,'  or  I  shall  forbid 
the  letter- writing.  I  hate  to  seem  cruel,  but  it  is  too 
soon  for  my  dear  girl  to  bind  herself  in  any  way,"  said 
Mrs.  Meg,  as  she  rustled  about  in  her  best  gray  silk, 
while  waiting  for  Demi,  who  always  escorted  his  pious 
mother  to  church  as  a  peace-offering  for  crossing  her 
wishes  in  other  things. 

"  I  will,  dear ;  I'm  lying  in  wait  for  all  three  boys 
to-day,  like  an  old  spider  ;  and  I  will  have  a  good  talk 
with  each.  They  know  I  understand  them,  and  they 
always  open  their  hearts  sooner  or  later.  You  look 
like  a  nice,  plump  little  Quakeress,  Meg ;  and  no  one 

8 


114  JO'S  BOYS. 

will  believe  that  big  boy  is  3-our  son,"  added  Mrs.  Jo, 
as  Demi  came  in  shining  with  Sunday  neatness,  from 
his  well-blacked  boots  to  his  smooth  brown  head*. 

"  You  flatter  me,  to  soften  my  heart  toward  your 
boy.  I  know  your  ways,  Jo,  and  I  don't  give  in.  Be 
firm,  and  spare  me  a  scene  by  and  by.  As  for  John, 
as  long  as  he  is  satisfied  with  his  old  mother,  I  don't 
care  what  people  think,"  answered  Mrs.  Meg,  accept- 
ing with  a  smile  the  little  posy  of  sweet-peas  and 
mignonette  Demi  brought  her. 

Then,  having  buttoned  her  dove-colored  gloves  with 
care,  she  took  her  son's  arm  and  went  proudly  away  to 
the  carriage,  where  Amy  and  Bess  waited,  while  Jo 
called  after  them,  just  as  Marmee  used  to  do,  — 

"Girls,  have  you  got  nice  pocket-handkerchiefs?" 
They  all  smiled  at  the  familiar  words,  and  three  white 
banners  waved  as  they  drove  awa}r,  leaving  the  spider 
to  watch  for  her  first  fly.  She  did  not  wait  long. 
Daisy  was  lying  down  with  a  wet  cheek  on  the  little 
hymn-book  out  of  which  she  and  Nat  used  to  sing 
together ;  so  Mrs.  Jo  strolled  about  the  lawn,  looking 
very  like  a  wandering  mushroom  with  her  large  buff 
umbrella. 

Dan  had  gone  for  a  ten-mile  stroll ;  and  Nat  was 
supposed  to  have  accompanied  him,  but  presently  came 
sneaking  back,  unable  to  tear  himself  away  from  the 
Dove-cote  or  lose  a  moment  of  nearness  to  his  idol 
that  last  day.  Mrs.  Jo  saw  him  at  once,  and  beckoned 
him  to  a  rustic  seat  under  the  old  elm,  where  they  could 
have  their  confidences  undisturbed,  and  both  keep  an 
eye  on  a  certain  white-curtained  window,  half  hidden 
in  vines . 


LAST   WORDS.  115 

"  Nice  and  cool  here.  I  'm  not  up  to  one  of  Dan's 
tramps  to-da}7,  —  it 's  so  warm,  and  he  goes  so  like  a 
steam-engine.  He  headed  for  the  swamp  where  his  pet 
snakes  used  to  live,  and  I  begged  to  be  excused,"  said 
Nat,  fanning  himself  with  his  straw  hat,  though  the 
day  was  not  oppressive. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  did.  Sit  and  rest  with  me,  and  have 
one  of  our  good  old  talks.  We've  both  been  so  busy 
lately,  I  feel  as  if  I  did  n't  half  know  your  plans  ;  and 
I  want  to,"  answered  Mrs.  Jo,  feeling  sure  that  though 
they  might  start  with  Leipsic  they  would  bring  up  at 
Plumfield. 

"You  are  very  kind,  and  there's  nothing  I'd  like 
better.  I  don't  realize  I  'm  going  so  far,  —  suppose  I 
sha'n't  till  I  get  afloat.  It 's  a  splendid  start,  and  I 
don't  know  how  I  can  ever  thank  Mr.  Laurie  for  all 
he  's  done,  or  jtou  either,"  added  Nat,  with  a  break  in 
his  voice ;  for  he  was  a  tender-hearted  fellow,  and 
never  forgot  a  kindness. 

4 '  You  can  thank  us  beautifully  by  being  and  doing 
all  we  hope  and  expect  of  3~ou,  my  dear.  In  the  new 
life  you  are  going  to  there  will  be  a  thousand  trials  and 
temptations,  and  only  your  own  wit  and  wisdom  to 
rely  on.  That  will  be  the  time  to  test  the  principles 
we  have  tried  to  give  }tou,  and  see  how  firm  they  are. 
Of  course  you  will  make  mistakes, — we  all  do;  but 
don't  let  go  of  your  conscience  and  drift  along  blindty. 
Watch  and  pray,  dear  Nat ;  and  while  your  hand  gains 
skill,  let  head  grow  wiser,  and  keep  heart  as  innocent 
and  warm  as  it  is  now." 

"  I  '11  try,  Mother  Bhaer,  my  very  best  to  be  a  credit 
to  you.     I  know  I  shall  improve  in  my  music,  —  can't 


116  JO'S  BOYS. 

help  it  there ;  but  I  never  shall  be  very  wise,  I  'm 
afraid.  As  for  my  heart,  you  know  I  leave  it  behind 
me  in  good  keeping." 

As  he  spoke,  Nat's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  window 
with  a  look  of  love  and  longing  that  made  his  quiet 
face  both  manly  and  sad,  — plainly  showing  how  strong 
a  hold  this  boyish  affection  had  upon  him. 

1 '  I  want  to  speak  of  that ;  and  I  know  you  will 
forgive  what  seems  hard,  because  I  do  most  heartily 
sympathize  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  glad  to  have  her 
say. 

"  Yes,  do  talk  about  Daisy  !  I  think  of  nothing  but 
leaving  and  losing  her.  I  have  no  hope,  —  I  suppose  it 
is  too  much  to  ask ;  only  I  can't  help  loving  her,  wher- 
ever I  am  !  "  cried  Nat,  with  a  mixture  of  defiance  and 
despair  in  his  face  that  rather  startled  Mrs.  Jo. 

"  Listen  to  me  and  I'll  try  to  give  you  both  comfort 
and  good  advice.  We  all  know  that  Dais}r  is  fond  of 
you,  but  her  mother  objects,  and  being  a  good  girl  she 
tries  to  obej".  Young  people  think  they  never  can 
change,  but  they  do  in  the  most  wonderful  manner,  and 
very  few  die  of  broken  hearts."  Mrs.  Jo  smiled  as 
she  remembered  another  boy  whom  she  had  once  tried 
to  comfort,  and  then  went  soberly  on  while  Nat  listened 
as  if  his  fate  hung  upon  her  lips. 

"  One  of  two  things  will  happen.  You  will  find 
some  one  else  to  love,  or,  better  still,  be  so  busy  and 
happy  in  your  music  that  you  will  be  willing  to  wait 
for  time  to  settle  the  matter  for  you  both.  Daisy  will 
perhaps  forget  when  }'ou  are  gone,  and  be  glad  3'ou  are 
only  friends.  At  any  rate  it  is  much  wiser  to  have  no 
promises  made ;  then  both  are  free,  and  in  a  year  or 


jlAST   WORDS.  117 

two  may  meet  to  laugh  over  the  little  romance  nipped 
in  the  bud." 

"Do  you  honestly  think  that?"  asked  Nat,  looking 
at  her  so  keenly  that  the  truth  had  to  come ;  for  all  his 
heart  was  in  those  frank  blue  eyes  of  his. 

"  No,  I  don't !  "  answered  Mrs.  Jo. 

"  Then  if  you  were  in  my  place,  what  would  you 
do?"  he  added,  with  a  tone  of  command  never  heard 
.in  his  gentle  voice  before. 

"Bless  me !  the  boy  is  in  dead  earnest,  and  I  shall 
forget  prudence  in  sympathy  I  'm  afraid,"  thought  Mrs. 
Jo,  surprised  and  pleased  by  the  unexpected  manliness 
Nat  showed. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  should  do.  I'd  say  to  myself, 
4 1  '11  prove  that  my  love  is  strong  and  faithful,  and 
make  Daisy's  mother  proud  to  give  her  to  me  by  being 
not  only  a  good  musician  but  an  excellent  man,  and  so 
command  respect  and  confidence.  This  I  will  try  for  ; 
and  if  I  fail,  I  shall  be  the  better  for  the  effort,  and 
find  comfort  in  the  thought  that  I  did  my  best  for  her 
sake.' " 

"  That  is  what  I  meant  to  do.  But  I  wanted  a 
word  of  hope  to  give  me  courage,"  cried  Nat,  firing  up 
as  if  the  smouldering  spark  was  set  ablaze  by  a  breath 
of  encouragement.  "  Other  fellows,  poorer  and  stupider 
than  I,  have  done  great  things  and  come  to  honor. 
Why  may  not  I,  though  I'm  nothing  now?  I  know 
Mrs.  Brooke  remembers  whaib  I  came  from,  but  my 
father  was  honest  though  ever3*thing  went  wrong ;  and 
I  have  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  though  I  was  a  charity 
boy.  I  never  will  be  ashamed  of  my  people  or  myselff 
and  I  '11  make  other  folks  respect  me  if  I  can." 


118  JO'S  BOYS. 

"Good!  that's  the  right  spirit,  Nat.  Hold  to  it 
and  make  yourself  a  man.  No  one  will  be  quicker  to 
see  and  admire  the  brave  work  than  my  sister  Meg. 
She  does  not  despise  your  poverty  or  your  past ;  but 
mothers  are  very  tender  over  their  daughters,  and  we 
Marches,  though  we  have  been  poor,  are,  I  confess,  a 
little  proud  of  our  good  family.  We  don't  care  for 
money ;  but  a  long  line  of  virtuous  ancestors  is  some- 
thing to  desire  and  to  be  proud  of." 

"  Well,  the  Blakes  are  a  good  lot.  I  looked  'em  up, 
and  not  one  was  ever  in  prison,  hanged,  or  disgraced  in 
any  wa}\  We  used  to  be  rich  and  honored  years  ago, 
but  we've  died  out  and  got  poor,  and  father  was  a  street 
musician  rather  than  beg  ;  and  I  '11  be  one  again  before 
I'll  do  the  mean  things  some  men  do  and  pass  muster." 

Nat  was  so  excited  that  Mrs.  Jo  indulged  in  a  laugh 
to  calm  him,  and  both  went  on  more  quietly. 

"I  told  my  sister  all  that  and  it  pleased  her.  I  am 
sure  if  you  do  well  these  next  few  years  that  she  will 
relent  and  all  be  happily  settled,  unless  that  wonderful 
change,  which  }Tou  don't  believe  possible,  should  occur. 
Now,  cheer  up ;  don't  be  lackadaisical  and  blue.  Say 
good-by  cheerfully  and  bravely,  show  a  manly  front, 
and  leave  a  pleasant  memo^  behind  3'ou.  We  all  wish 
you  well  and  hope  much  for  3'ou.  Don't  disappoint  but 
surprise  us  by  your  success  in  all  ways.  Write  to  me 
ever}^  week  and  I  '11  send  a  good,  gossipy  answer.  Be 
careful  what  }'OU  write  to  Dais}- ;  don't  gush  or  wail,  for 
sister  Meg  will  see  the  letters  ;  and  you  can  help  your 
cause  very  much  by  sending  sensible,  cheery  accounts 
of  your  life  to  us  all." 

"  I  will ;  I  will ;  it  looks  brighter  and  better  already, 


LAST   WORDS.  119 

and  I  won't  lose  my  one  comfort  by  any  fault  of  my 
own.  Thank  you  so  much,  Mother  Bhaer,  for  taking 
my  side.  I  felt  so  ungrateful  and  mean  and  crushed 
when  I  thought  you  all  considered  me  a  sneak,  who  had 
no  business  to  love  such  a  precious  girl  as  Daisy.  No 
one 'said  anything,  but  I  knew  how  you  felt,  and  that 
Mr.  Laurie  sent  me  off  partly  to  get  me  out  of  the  way. 
Oh,  dear,  life  is  pretty  tough  sometimes,  isn't  it?" 
And  Nat  took  his  head  in  both  hands  as  if  it  ached 
with  the  confusion  of  hopes  and  fears,  passions  and 
plans  that  proved  boyhood  was  past  and  manhood 
begun. 

"  Very  tough,  but  it  is  that  very  struggle  with  obsta- 
cles which  does  us  good.  Things  have  been  made  easy 
for  you  in  many  ways,  but  no  one  can  do  everything. 
You  must  paddle  your  own  canoe  now,  and  learn  to 
avoid  the  rapids  and  steer  straight  to  the  port  you  want 
to  reach.  I  don't  know  just  what  your  temptations  will 
be,  for  you  have  no  bad  habits  and  seem  to  love  music 
so  well,  nothing  can  lure  you  from  it.  I  only  hope  you 
won't  work  too  hard." 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  could  work  like  a  horse,  I  'm  so  eager 
to  get  on  ;  but  I  '11  take  care.  Can't  waste  time  being 
sick,  and  you  've  given  me  doses  enough  to  keep  me  all 
right,  I  guess."  Nat  laughed  as  he  remembered  the 
book  of  directions  Mrs.  Jo  had  written  for  him  to  con- 
sult on  all  occasions. 

She  immediately  added  some  verbal  ones  on  the  sub- 
ject of  foreign  messes,  and  having  mounted  one  of  her 
pet  hobbies,  was  in  full  gallop  when  Emil  was  seen 
strolling  about  on  the  roof  of  the  old  house,  that  being 
bis  favorite  promenade ;  for  there  he  could  fancy  him 


120  JO'S  BOYS. 

self  walking  the  deck,  with  only  blue  sky  and  fresh  air 
about  him. 

"  I  want  a  word  with  the  Commodore,  and  up  there 
we  shall  be  nice  and  quiet.  Go  and  play  to  Daisy  ;  it 
Will  put  her  to  sleep  and  do  you  both  good.  Sit  in 
the  porch  so  I  can  keep  an  eye  on  you  as  I  promised ; " 
and  with  a  motherly  pat  on  the  shoulder,  Mrs.  Jo  left 
Nat  to  his  delightful  task  and  briskly  ascended  to  the 
house-top,  not  up  the  trellis  as  of  old  but  by  means 
of  the  stairs  inside. 

Emerging  on  the  platform  she  found  Emil  cutting  his 
initials  afresh  in  the  wood- work  and  singing  ' '  Pull  for 
the  Shore,"  like  the  tuneful  mariner  he  was. 

"  Come  aboard  and  make  yourself  at  home,  Aunty," 
he  said,  with  a  p^ful  salute.  "I'm  just  leaving  a 
P.  P.  C.  in  the  old  place,  so  when  you  fly  up  here  for 
refuge,  you  '11  remember  me." 

"Ah,  my  dear,  I'm  not  likely  to  forget  you.  It 
doesn't  need  E.  B.  H.  cut  on  all  the  trees  and  railings  to 
remind  me  of  my  sailor  boy ;  "  and  Mrs.  Jo  took  the 
seat  nearest  the  blue  figure  astride  the  balustrade,  not 
quite  sure  how  to  begin  the  little  sermon  she  wanted  to 
preach. 

"  Well,  you  don't  pipe  your  eye  and  look  squally  when 
I  gheer  off  as  you  used  to,  and  that 's  a  comfort.  I  like 
to  leave  port  in  fair  weather  and  have  a  jolly  send-off  all 
round.  Specially  this  time,  for  it  will  be  a  year  or  more 
before  we  drop  anchor  here  again,"  answered  Emil  push- 
ing his  cap  back,  and  glancing  about  him  as  if  he  loved 
old  Plum  and  would  be  sorry  never  to  see  it  any  more. 

"  You  have  salt  water  enough  without  my  adding  to 
it,    I  'm  getting  to  be  quite  a  Spartan  mother,  and  send 


LAST   WORDS.  121 

my  sons  to  battle  with  no  wailing,  only  the  command, 
1  With  your  shield  or  on  it,'  "  said  Mrs.  Jo,  cheerfully, 
adding  after  a  pause,  "  I  often  wish  I  could  go  too,  and 
some  day  I  will,  when  you  are  captain  and  have  a  ship 
of  your  own,  —  as  I  've  no  doubt  you  will  before  long5 
with  Uncle  Herman  to  push  you  on." 

"When  I  do  I'll  christen  her  the  'Jolly  Jo*  and 
take  you  as  first  mate.  It  would  be  regular  larks  to 
have  you  aboard,  and  I  'd  be  a  proud  man  to  carry  you 
round  the  world  you  've  wanted  to  see  so  long  and 
never  could,"  answered  Emil,  caught  at  once  by  this 
splendid  vision. 

"I'll  make  my  first  voyage  with  you  and  enjoy  my- 
self immensely  in  spite  of  seasickness  and  all  the  stormy 
winds  that  blow.  I  've  always  thought  I  'd  like  to  see  a 
wreck,  a  nice  safe  one  with  all  saved  after  great  danger 
and  heroic  deeds,  while  we  clung  like  Mr.  Pillicoddy  to 
main-top  jibs  and  lee  scuppers." 

"  No  wrecks  yet,  ma'am,  but  we  '11  try  to  accommo- 
date customers.  Captain  says  I'm  a  lucky  dog  and 
bring  fair  weather,  so  we  '11  save  the  dirty  weather  for 
you  if  you  want  it,"  laughed  Emil,  digging  away  at  the 
ship  in  full  sail  which  he  was  adding  to  his  design. 

"  Thanks,  I  hope  you  will.  This  long  voyage  will 
give  you  new  experiences,  and  being  an  officer,  j'ou  will 
have  new  duties  and  responsibilities.  Are  3tou  ready 
for  them  ?  You  take  everything  so  gayty,  I  've  been 
wondering  if  you  realized  that  now  you  will  have  not 
only  to  obey  but  to  command  also,  and  power  is  a  dan- 
gerous thing.  Be  careful  that  you  don't  abuse  it  or  let 
it  make  a  tyrant  of  you." 

"Right  you  are,  ma'am.     I've  seen  plenty  of  that, 


122  JO'S  BOYS. 

and  have  got  my  bearings  pretty  well,  I  guess.  I 
sha'n't  have  very  wide  swing  with  Peters  over  me,  but 
I'll  see  that  the  boys  don't  get  abused  wrhen  he's 
bowsed  up  his  jib.  No  right  to  speak  before,  but  now 
I  won't  stand  it." 

"  That  sounds  mysteriously  awful ;  could  I  ask  what 
nautical  torture  '  bowsing  jibs'  is?  "  asked  Mrs.  Jo,  in  a 
tone  of  deep  interest. 

"  Getting  drunk.  Peters  can  hold  more  grog  than 
any  man  I  ever  saw ;  he  keeps  right  side  up,  but  is  as 
savage  as  a  norther,  and  makes  things  lively  all  round. 
I  've  seen  him  knock  a  fellow  clown  with  a  bela3'ing-pin, 
and  could  n't  lend  a  hand.  Better  luck  now,  I  hope." 
And  Emil  frowned  as  if  he  already  trod  the  quarter-deck, 
lord  of  all  he  surveyed. 

"  Don't  get  into  trouble,  for  even  Uncle  Herman's 
favor  won't  cover  insubordination,  you  know.  You  have 
proved  yourself  a  good  sailor ;  now  be  a  good  officer, 
which  is  a  harder  thing,  I  fancy.  It  takes  a  fine  char- 
acter to  rule  justly  and  kindly  ;  you  will  have  to  put  by 
your  boyish  ways  and  remember  }rour  dignity.  That 
will  be  excellent  training  for  you,  Emil,  and  sober  you 
down  a  bit.  No  more  sk}T-larking  except  here,  so  mind 
your  ways  and  do  honor  to  your  buttons,"  said  Mrs.  Jo, 
tapping  one  of  the  very  bright  brass  ones  that  orna- 
mented the  new  suit  Emil  was  so  proud  of. 

"  I  '11  do  nry  best.  I  know  my  time  for  skrim-shander 
(chaff)  is  over,  and  I  must  steer  a  straighter  course ; 
but  don't  }Tou  fear,  Jack  ashore  is  a  very  different  craft 
from  what  he  is  with  blue  water  under  his  keel.  I  had 
a  long  talk  with  Uncle  last  night  and  got  my  orders  ;  I 
won't  forget  'em  nor  all  I  owe  him.     As  for  you,  I  '11 


LAST   WORDS.  123 

name  my  first  ship  as  I  say,  and  have  your  bust  for  the 
figure-head,  see  if  I  don't ;  "  and  Emil  gave  his  aunt  a 
hearty  kiss  to  seal  the  vow,  which  proceeding  much 
amused  Nat,  playing  softly  in  the  porch  of  the  Dove- 
3ote. 

"You  do  me  proud,  Captain.  But,  dear,  I  want  to 
say  one  thing  and  then  I  'm  done ;  for  you  don't  need 
much  advice  of  mine  after  my  good  man  has  spoken. 
I  read  somewhere  that  every  inch  of  rope  used  in  the 
British  Navy  has  a  strand  of  red  in  it,  so  that  wherever 
a  bit  of  it  is  found  it  is  known.  That  is  the  text  of  my 
little  sermon  to  you.  Virtue,  which  means  honor,  hon- 
esty, courage,  and  all  that  makes  character,  is  the  red 
thread  that  marks  a  good  man  wherever  he  is.  Keep 
that  always  and  everywhere,  so  that  even  if  wrecked  by 
misfortune,  that  sign  shall  still  be  found  and  recognized. 
Yours  is  a  rough  life,  and  your  mates  not  all  we  could 
wish,  but  you  can  be  a  gentleman  in  the  true  sense  of 
the  word  ;  and  no  matter  what  happens  to  your  body, 
keep  }'our  soul  clean,  your  heart  true  to  those  who  love 
you,  and  do  your  duty  to  the  end." 

As  she  spoke  Emil  had  risen  and  stood  listening  with 
his  cap  off  and  a  grave,  bright  look  as  if  taking  orders 
from  a  superior  officer ;  when  she  ended,  he  answered 
briefly  but  heartily,  — 

"Please  God,  I  will!" 

"  That's  all ;  I  have  little  fear  for  you,  but  one  never 
knows  when  or  how  the  weak  moment  may  come,  and 
sometimes  a  chance  word  helps  us,  as  so  many  n^  dear 
mother  spoke  come  back  to  me  now  for  my  own  com- 
fort and  the  guidance  of  my  boys,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  rising ; 
for  the  word  had  been  said  and  no  more  were  needed. 


124  JO'S  BOYS. 

* 
"I've  stored  'em  up  and  know  where  to  find  'em 

when  wanted.     Often  and  often  in  my  watch  I  Ve  seen 

old  Plum,  and  heard  you  and  Uncle  talking  so  plainly, 

I'd  have  sworn  I  was  here.     It  is  a  rough  life,  AuntjT, 

but  a  wholesome  one  if  a  fellow  loves  it  as  I  do,  and 

has  an  anchor  to  windward  as  I  have.     Don't  worry 

about  me,  and  I'll  come  home  next  year  with  a  chest 

of  tea  that  will  cheer  your  heart  and  give  30U  ideas 

enough  for  a  dozen  novels.     Going  below  ?     All  right, 

steady  in  the  gang-way  !     I  '11   be    along   by  the  time 

you  've  got  out  the  cake-box.     Last  chance  for  a  good 

old  lunch  ashore." 

Mrs.  Jo  descended  laughing,  and  Emil  finished  his 
ship,  whistling  cheerfully,  neither  dreaming  when  and 
where  this  little  chat  on  the  house-top  would  return  to 
the  memory  of  one  of  them. 

Dan  was  harder  to  catch,  and  not  until  evening  did  a 
quiet  moment  come  in  that  busy  fanrity ;  then,  while  the 
rest  were  roaming  about,  Mrs.  Jo  sat  down  to  read  in 
the  stud}',  and  presently  Dan  looked  in  at  the  window. 

"  Come  and  rest  after  your  long  tramp  ;  you  must  be 
tired,"  she  called,  with  an  inviting  nod  toward  the  big 
sofa  where  so  many  bo}Ts  had  reposed,  —  as  much  as 
that  active  animal  ever  does. 

"  Afraid  I  shall  disturb  you  ; "  but  Dan  looked  as  if 
he  wanted  to  stay  his  restless  feet  somewhere. 

"  Not  a  bit;  I'm  alwaj^s  reacry  to  talk,  shouldn't  be 
a  woman  if  I  were  not,"  laughed  Mrs.  Jo,  as  Dan 
swung  himself  in  and  sat  down  with  an  air  of  content- 
ment very  pleasant  to  see. 

"  Last  day  is  over,  yet  somehow  I  don't  seem  to 
hanker  to  be  off.     Generally,  I  'm  rather  anxious  to  cut 


LAST   WORDS.  125 

loose  after  a  short  stop.  Odd,  ain't  it?"  asked  Dan, 
gravely  picking  grass  and  leaves  out  of  his  hair  and 
beard ;  for  he  had  been  lying  on  the  grass,  thinking 
many  thoughts  in  the  quiet  summer  night. 

"Not  at  all;  you  are  beginning  to  get  civilized. 
It 's  a  good  sign,  and  I  'm  glad  to  see  it,"  answered 
Mrs.  Jo,  promptly.  "  You  've  had  your  swing,  and  want 
a  change.  Hope  the  farming  will  give  it  to  you,  though 
helping  the  Indians  pleases  me  more,  —  it  is  so  much 
better  to  work  for  others  than  for  one's  self  alone." 

"  So 't  is,"  assented  Dan,  heartily.  "  I  seem  to  want  to 
root  somewhere  and  have  folks  of  nry  own  to  take  care 
of.  Tired  of  my  own  company,  I  suppose,  now  I've 
seen  so  much  better.  I  'm  a  rough,  ignorant  lot,  and 
I  've  been  thinking  maybe  I  've  missed  it  loafing  round 
creation,  instead  of  going  in  for  education  as  the  other 
chaps  did.     Hey?" 

He  looked  anxiously  at  Mrs.  Jo ;  and  she  tried  to 
hide  the  surprise  this  new  outburst  caused  her ;  for  till 
now  Dan  had  scorned  books  and  gloried  in  his  freedom. 

"No;  I  don't  think  so  in  your  case.  So  far  I'm 
sure  the  free  life  was  best.  Now  that  you  are  a  man 
you  can  control  that  lawless  nature  better ;  but  as  a 
boy  only  great  activity  and  much  adventure  could  keep 
you  out  of  mischief.  Time  is  taming  my  colt,  you  see, 
and  I  shall  yet  be  proud  of  him,  whether  he  makes  a 
pack-horse  of  himself  to  carry  help  to  the  starving  or 
goes  to  ploughing  as  Pegasus  did." 

Dan  liked  the  comparison,  and  smiled  as  he  lounged 
in  the  sofa-corner,  with  the  new  thoughtfulness  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Glad  you  think  so.     The  fact  is  it  's  going  to  take 


126  jcrs  boys. 

a  heap  of  taming  to  make  me  go  well  in  harness  any- 
where. I  want  to,  and  I  try  now  and  then,  but  always 
kick  over  the  traces  and  run  away.  No  lives  lost  yet ; 
but  I  should  n't  wonder  if  there  was  some  time,  and  a 
general  smash-up." 

"  Why,  Dan,  did  30U  have  any  dangerous  adventures 
during  this  last  absence?  I  fancied  so,  but  did  n't  ask 
before,  knowing  3'ou'd  tell  me  if  I  could  help  in  any 
way.  Can  I  ?  "  And  Mrs.  Jo  looked  anxiously  at  him  ; 
for  a  sudden  lowering  expression  had  come  into  his 
face,  and  he  leaned  forward  as  if  to  hide  it. 

"  Nothing  very  bad  ;  but 'Frisco  is  n't  just  a  heaven 
on  earth,  you  know,  and  it 's  harder  to  be  a  saint  there 
than  here,"  he  answered  slowly ;  then,  as  if  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  "'fess,"  as  the  children  used  to 
say,  he  sat  up,  and  added  rapidly,  in  a  half-defiant,  half- 
shamefaced  way,  "  I  tried  gambling,  and  it  was  n't  good 
for  me." 

"  Was  that  how  you  made  }~our  money?  " 

"  Not  a  penny  of  it!  That's  all  honest,  if  specula- 
tion is  n't  a  bigger  sort  of  gambling.  I  won  a  lot ;  but 
I  lost  or  gave  it  awa}T,  and  cut  the  whole  concern  before 
it  got  the  better  of  me." 

' '  Thank  heaven  for  that !  Don't  trjT  it  again ;  it 
may  have  the  terrible  fascination  for  you  it  has  for 
so  man}'.  Keep  to  your  mountains  and  prairies,  and 
shun  cities,  if  these  things  tempt  }Tou,  Dan.  Better 
lose  your  life  than  your  soul,  and  one  such  passion 
leads  to  worse  sins,  as  you  know  better  than  I." 

Dan  nodded,  and  seeing  how  troubled  she  was,  said, 
in  a  lighter  tone,  though  still  the  shadow  of  that  past 
experience  remained,  — 


LAST   WORDS.  127 

"  Don't  be  scared  ;  I  'm  all  right  now  ;  and  a  burnt 
dog  dreads  the  fire.  I  don't  drink,  or  do  the  things 
you  dread ;  don't  care  for  'em  ;  but  I  get  excited,  and 
then  this  devilish  temper  of  mine  is  more  than  I  can 
manage.  Fighting  a  moose  or  a  buffalo  is  all  right ; 
but  when  you  pitch  into  a  man,  no  matter  how  great  a 
scamp  he  is,  you  've  got  to  look  out.  I  shall  kill  some 
one  some  day ;  that 's  all  I  'm  afraid  of.  I  do  hate  a 
sneak  !  "  And  Dan  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table 
with  a  blow  that  made  the  lamp  totter  and  the  books 
skip. 

"  That  alwa3Ts  was  your  trial,  Dan,  and  I  can  sym- 
pathize with  }T)u ;  for  I  've  been  trying  to  govern  my 
own  temper  all  my  life,  and  have  n't  learnt  yet,"  said 
Mrs.  Jo,  with  a  sigh.  "  For  heaven's  sake,  guard  your 
demon  well,  and  don't  let  a  moment's  fury  ruin  all  your 
life.  As  I  said  to  Nat,  watch  and  pray,  my  dear  boy. 
There  is  no  other  help  or  hope'  for  human  weakness  but 
God's  love  and  patience." 

Tears  were  in  Mrs.  Jo's  eyes  as  she  spoke ;  for  she 
felt  this  deeply,  and  knew  how  hard  a  task  it  is  to  rule 
these  bosom  sins  of  ours.  Dan  looked  touched,  also 
uncomfortable,  as  he  alwa}Ts  did  when  religion  of  any 
sort  was  mentioned,  though  he  had  a  simple  creed  of 
his  own,  and  tried  to  live  up  to  it  in  his  blind  way. 

' '  I  don't  do  much  praying  ;  don't  seem  to  come  handy 
to  me  ;  but  I  can  watch  like  a  red-skin,  only  it's  easier 
to  mount  guard  over  a  lurking  grizzly  than  my  own 
cursed  temper.  It 's  that  I  'm  afraid  of,  if  I  settle 
down.  I  can  get  on  with  wild  beasts  first-rate ;  but 
men  rile  me  awfully,  and  I  can't  take  it  out  in  a  free 
fight,  as  I  can  with  a  bear  or  a  wolf.     Guess  I  'd  better 


128  JO'S  BOYS. 

head  for  the  Rockies,  and  stay  there  a  spell  longer,  — 
till  I  'm  tame  enough  for  decent  folks,  if  I  ever  am." 
And  Dan  leaned  his  rough  head  on  his  hands  in  a 
despondent  attitude. 

"Try  my  sort  of  help,  and  don't  give  up.  Read 
more,  study  a  little,  aud  try  to  meet  a  better  class  of 
people,  who  won't '  rile,'  but  soothe  and  strengthen  }T>u. 
We  don't  make  you  savage,  I'm  sure ;  for  3^011  have 
been  as  meek  as  a  lamb,  and  made  us  very  happy." 

' '  Glad  of  it ;  but  I  've  felt  like  a  hawk  in  a  hen- 
house all  the  same,  and  wanted  to  pounce  and  tear  more 
than  once.  Not  so  much  as  I  used,  though,"  added 
Dan,  after  a  short  laugh  at  Mrs.  Jo's  surprised  face. 
"I'll  try  your  plan,  and  keep  good  compan}T  this  bout 
if  I  can ;  but  a  man  can't  pick  and  choose,  knocking 
about  as  I  do." 

"Yes,  you  can  this  time;  for  you  are  going  on  a 
peaceful  errand  and  can  keep  clear  of  temptation  if  you 
try.  Take  some  books  and  read ;  that 's  an  immense 
help  ;  and  books  are  always  good  company  if  3-ou  have 
the  right  sort.  Let  me  pick  out  some  for  you."  And 
Mrs.  Jo  made  a  bee-line  to  the  well-laden  shelves,  which 
were  the  joy  of  her  heart  and  the  comfort  of  her  life. 

"Give  me  travels  and  stories,  please;  don't  want 
any  pious  works,  can't  seem  to  relish  'em,  and  won't 
pretend  I  do,"  said  Dan,  following  to  look  over  her 
head  with  small  favor  at  the  long  lines  of  well-worn 
volumes. 

Mrs.  Jo  turned  short  round,  and  putting  a  hand  on 
either  broad  shoulder,  looked  him  in  the  eye,  saying 
soberly,  — 

"  Now,  Dan,  see  here  ;  never  sneer  at  good  things  or 


LAST  WORDS.  129 

pretend  to  be  worse  than  you  are.  Don't  let  false 
shame  make  you  neglect  the  religion  without  which  no 
man  can  live.  You  need  n't  talk  about  it  if  you  don't 
like,  but  don't  shut  your  heart  to  it  in  whatever  shape 
it  comes.  Nature  is  your  God  now  ;  she  has  done  much 
for  you ;  let  her  do  more,  and  lead  you  to  know  and  love 
a  wiser  and  more  tender  teacher,  friend,  and  comforter 
than  she  can  ever  be.  That  is  your  only  hope  ;  don't 
throw  it  away,  and  waste  time  ;  for  sooner  or  later  you 
will  feel  the  need  of  Him,  and  He  will  come  to  you  and 
hold  you  up  when  all  other  help  fails." 

Dan  stood  motionless,  and  let  her  read  in  his  soft- 
ened eyes  the  dumb  desire  that  lived  in  his  heart, 
though  he  had  no  words  to  tell  it,  and  only  permitted 
her  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  divine  spark  which  smoul- 
ders or  burns  clearly  in  every  human  soul.  He  did  not 
speak  ;  and  glad  to  be  spared  some  answer  which  should 
belie  his  real  feeling,  Mrs.  Jo  hastened  to  say,  with  her 
most  motherly  smile,  — 

"  I  saw  in  your  room  the  little  Bible  I  gave  you  long 
ago ;  it  was  well  worn  outside,  but  fresh  within,  as  if 
not  much  read.  Will  you  promise  me  to  read  a  little 
once  a  week,  dear,  for  my  sake  ?  Sunda}T  is  a  quiet 
day  everywhere,  and  this  book  is  never  old  nor  out  of 
place.  Begin  with  the  stories  you  used  to  love  when 
I  told  them  to  you  boys.  David  was  3rour  favorite,  you 
remember  ?  Read  him  again  ;  he  '11  suit  you  even  bet- 
ter now,  and  you  '11  find  his  sins  and  repentance  useful 
reading  till  yon  come  to  the  life  and  work  of  a  diviner 
example  than  he.  You  will  do  it,  for  love  of  Mother 
Bhaer,  who  always  loved  her  "  firebrand"  and  hoped  t& 
save  him  ?  n 


130  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  I  will,"  answered  Dan,  with  the  sudden  brightening 
of  face  that  was  like  a  sunburst  through  a  cloud,  full  of 
promise  though  so  short-lived  and  rare. 

Mrs.  Jo  turned  at  once  to  the  books  and  began  to 
talk  of  them,  knowing  well  that  Dan  would  not  bear 
any  more  just  then.  He  seemed  relieved  :  for  it  was 
always  hard  for  him  to  show  his  inner  self,  and  he 
took  pride  in  hiding  it  as  an  Indian  does  in  concealing 
pain  or  fear. 

;'  Hullo,  here's  old  Sintram  !  I  remember  him  ;  used 
to  like  him  and  his  tantrums,  and  read  about  'em  to 
Ted.  There  he  is  riding  ahead  with  Death  and  the 
Devil  alongside." 

As  Dan  looked  at  the  little  picture  of  the  young  man 
with  horse  and  hound  going  bravely  up  the  rocky  defile, 
accompanied  bj^  the  companions  who  ride  beside  most 
men  through  this  world,  a  curious  impulse  made  Mrs. 
Jo  say  quickly,  — 

"  That's  you,  Dan,  just  you  at  this  time  !  Danger 
and  sin  are  near  you  in  the  life  you  lead  ;  moods  and 
passions  torment  you ;  the  bad  father  left  30U  to  fight 
alone,  and  the  wild  spirit  drives  you  to  wander  up  and 
down  the  world  looking  for  peace  and  self-control. 
Even  the  horse  and  hound  are  there,  jour  Octoo  and 
Don,  faithful  friends,  unscared  by  the  strange  mates 
that  go  with  you.  You  have  not  got  the  armor  yet,  but 
Irm  trying  to  show  you  where  to  find  it.  You  remem- 
ber the  mother  Sintram  loved  and  longed  to  find,  and 
did  find  when  his  battle  was  bravely  fought,  his  re- 
ward well  earned  ?  You  can  recollect  your  mother ;  and 
I  have  always  felt  that  all  the  good  qualities  you  pos- 
sess come  from  her.     Act  out  the  beautiful  old  story  in 


LAST  WORDS.  131 

this  as  in  the  other  parts,  and  try  to  give  her  back  & 
son  to  be  proud  of." 

Quite  carried  away  by  the  likeness  of  the  quaint  tale 
to  Dan's  life  and  needs,  Mrs.  Jo  went  on  pointing  to 
the  various  pictures  which  illustrated  it,  and  when  she 
looked  up  was  surprised  to  see  how  struck  and  inter- 
ested he  seemed  to  be.  Like  all  people  of  his  tem- 
perament he  was  very  impressionable,  and  his  life 
among  hunters  and  Indians  had  made  him  supersti- 
tious ;  he  believed  in  dreams,  liked  weird  tales,  and 
whatever  appealed  to  the  eye  or  mind  vividly  impressed 
him  more  than  the  wisest  words.  The  story  of  poor, 
tormented  Sintram  came  back  clearly  as  he  looked  and 
listened,  s}Tmbolizing  his  secret  trials  even  more  truly 
than  Mrs.  Jo  knew  ;  and  just  at  that  moment  this  had 
an  effect  upon  him  that  never  was  forgotten.  But  all 
he  said  was,  — 

' '  Small  chance  of  that.  I  don't  take  much  stock  in 
the  idea  of  meeting  folks  in  heaven.  Guess  mother 
won't  remember  the  poor  little  brat  she  left  so  long 
ago  ;  wh}^  should  she  ?  " 

' '  Because  true  mothers  never  forget  their  children  ; 
and  I  know  she  was  one,  from  the  fact  that  she  ran  away 
from  the  cruel  husband,  to  save  her  little  son  from  bad 
influences.  Had  she  lived,  life  would  have  been  happier 
for  you,  with  this  tender  friend  to  help  and  comfort  }tou. 
Never  forget  that  she  risked  everything  for  your  sake, 
and  don't  let  it  be  in  vain." 

Mrs.  Jo  spoke  very  earnestly,  knowing  that  this  was 
the  one  sweet  memorj'  of  Dan's  early  life,  and  glad  to 
have  recalled  it  at  this  moment ;  for  suddenly  a  great 
tear  splashed  down  on  the  page  where  Sintram  kneels 


132  JO'S  BOYS. 

at  his  mother's  feet,  wounded,  but  victorious  over  sin 
and  death.  She  looked  up,  well  pleased  to  have  touched 
Dan  to  the  heart's  core,  as  that  drop  proved ;  but  a 
sweep  of  the  arm  brushed  awa}~  the  tell-tale,  and  his 
beard  hid  the  mate  to  it,  as  he  shut  the  book,  saying 
with  a  suppressed  quiver  in  his  strong  voice,  — 

"I'll  keep  this,  if  nobody  wants  it.  I'll  read  it 
over,  and  ma}Tbe  it  will  do  me  good.  I  'd  like  to  meet 
her  an}7where,  but  don't  believe  I  ever  shall." 

"  Keep  it  and  welcome.  M}T  mother  gave  it  to  me; 
and  when  you  read  it  try  to  believe  that  neither  of 
your  mothers  will  ever  forget  you." 

Mrs.  Jo  gave  the  book  with  a  caress ;  and  simply 
saying,  "Thanks;  good-night,"  Dan  thrust  it  into 
his  pocket,  and  walked  straight  away  to  the  river  to 
recover  from  this  unwonted  mood  of  tenderness  and 
confidence. 

Next  day  the  travellers  were  off.  All  were  in  good 
spirits,  and  a  cloud  of  handkerchiefs  whitened  the  air 
as  they  drove  away  in  the  old  'bus,  waving  their  hats 
to  every  one  and  kissing  their  hands,  especially  to 
Mother  Bhaer,  who  said  in  her  prophetic  tone  as  she 
wiped  her  e3res,  when  the  familiar  rumble  died  away,  — 

"  I  have  a  feeling  that  something  is  going  to  happen 
to  some  of  them,  and  they  will  never  come  back  to  me, 
or  come  back  changed.  Well,  I  can  only  say,  '  God  be 
with  my  boys  ! ' " 

And  He  was. 


w 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  LION  AND   THE  LAMB. 

HEN  the  bo}Ts  were  gone  a  lull  fell  upon  Plum- 
field,  and  the  family  scattered  to  various  places 
for  brief  outings,  as  August  had  come  and  all  felt  the 
need  of  change.  The  Professor  took  Mrs.  Jo  to  the 
mountains.  The  Laurences  were  at  the  sea-shore,  and 
there  Meg's  family  and  the  Bhaer  boys  took  turns  to 
visit,  as  some  one  must  always  be  at  home  to  keep 
things  in  order. 

Mrs.  Meg,  with  Dais}T,  was  in  office  when  the  events 
occurred  which  we  are  about  to  relate.  Rob  and  Ted 
were  just  up  from  Rocky  Nook,  and  Nan  was  passing 
a  week  with  her  friend  as  the  only  relaxation  she  allowed 
herself.  Demi  was  off  on  a  run  with  Tom,  so  Rob  was 
man  of  the  house,  with  old  Silas  as  general  overseer. 
The  sea  air  seemed  to  have  gone  to  Ted's  head,  for  he 
was  unusually  freakish,  and  led  his  gentle  aunt  and 
poor  Rob  a  life  of  it  with  his  pranks.  Octoo  was  worn 
out  with  the  wild  rides  he  took,  and  Don  openly  re- 
belled when  ordered  to  leap  and  show  off  his  accom- 
plishments ;  while  the  girls  at  college  were  both  amused 
and  worried  by  the  ghosts  who  haunted  the  grounds  at 
night,  the  unearthly  melodies  that  disturbed  their  studi- 
ous hours,  and  the  hair-breadth  escapes  of  this  restless 


134  JO'S  BOYS. 

boy  by  flood  and  field  and  fire.  Something  happened 
at  length  which  effectually  sobered  Ted  and  made  a  last- 
ing impression  on  both  the  bo}Ts ;  for  sudden  danger 
and  a  haunting  fear  turned  the  Lion  into  a  lamb  and  the 
Lamb  into  a  lion,  as  far  as  courage  went. 

On  the  first  of  September,  —  the  boys  never  forgot  the 
date,  —  after  a  pleasant  tramp  and  good  luck  with  their 
fishing,  the  brothers  were  lounging  in  the  barn  ;  for 
Daisy  had  company,  and  the  lads  kept  out  of  the  wa}7. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Bobby,  that  dog  is  sick.  He 
won't  pla}~,  nor  eat,  nor  drink,  and  acts  queerly.  Dan 
will  kill  us  if  an}'thing  happens  to  him,"  said  Ted,  look- 
ing at  Don,  who  lay  near  his  kennel  resting  a  moment 
after  one  of  the  restless  wanderings  which  kept  him 
vibrating  between  the  door  of  Dan's  room  and  the  shadj7 
corner  of  the  yard,  where  his  master  had  settled  him 
with  an  old  cap  to  guard  till  he  came  back. 

"It's  the  hot  weather,  perhaps.  But  I  sometimes 
think  he 's  pining  for  Dan.  Dogs  do,  you  know,  and 
the  poor  fellow  has  been  low  in  his  mind  ever  since  the 
boys  went.  Maybe  something  has  happened  to  Dan. 
Don  howled  last  night  and  can't  rest.  I've  heard  of 
such  things,"  answered  Rob,  thoughtfully. 

"Pooh!  he  can't  know.  He's  cross.  I'll  stir  him 
up  and  take  him  for  a  run.  Alwa}'s  makes  me  feel  bet- 
ter.  Hi,  boy  !  wake  up  and  be  jolly  ;  "  and  Ted  snapped 
his  fingers  at  the  dog,  who  only  looked  at  him  with  grim 
indifference. 

"  Better  let  him  alone.  If  he  is  n't  right  to-morrow, 
we'll  take  him  to  Dr.  Watkins  and  see  what  he  saj's." 
And  Rob  went  on  watching  the  swallows  as  he  lay  in 
the  ha}'  polishing  up  some  Latin  verses  he  had  made. 


THE  LION  AND   THE  LAMB.  135 

The  spirit  of  perversit}7  entered  into  Ted,  and  merely 
because  he  was  told  not  to  tease  Don  he  went  on  doing 
it,  pretending  that  it  was  for  the  dog's  good.  Don  took 
no  heed  of  his  pats,  commands,  reproaches,  or  insults, 
till  Ted's  patience  gave  out ;  and  seeing  a  convenient 
switch  near  by  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to 
conquer  the  great  hound  by  force,  since  gentleness  failed 
to.  win  obedience.  He  had  the  wisdom  to  chain  Don 
up  first;  for  a  blow  from  any  hand  but  his  master's 
made  him  savage,  and  Ted  had  more  than  once  tried 
the  experiment,  as  the  dog  remembered.  This  indignity 
roused  Don  and  he  sat  up  with  a  growl.  Rob  heard  it, 
and  seeing  Ted  raise  the  switch,  ran  to  interfere, 
exclaiming,  — 

"  Don't  touch  him  !  Dan  forbade  it !  Leave  the  poor 
thing  in  peace  ;  I  won't  allow  it." 

Rob  seldom  commanded,  but  when  he  did  Master 
Ted  had  to  give  in.  His  temper  was  up,  and  Rob's 
masterful  tone  made  it  impossible  to  resist  one  cut  at 
the  rebellious  dog  before  he  submitted.  Only  a  single 
blow,  but  it  was  a  costly  one ;  for  as  it  fell,  the  dog 
sprung  at  Ted  with  a  snarl,  and  Rob,  rushing  between 
the  two,  felt  the  sharp  teeth  pierce  his  leg.  A  word 
made  Don  let  go  and  drop  remorsefully  at  Rob's  feet, 
for  he  loved  him  and  was  evidently  sorry  to  have  hurt 
his  friend  by  mistake/  With  a  forgiving  pat  Rob  left 
him,  to  limp  to  the  barn  followed  by  Ted,  whose  wrath 
was  changed  to  shame  and  sorrow  when  he  saw  the 
red  drops  on  Rob's  sock  and  the  little  wounds  in  his 
leg. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry.  Why  did  you  get  in  the  way? 
Here,  wash  it  up,  and  I  '11  get  a  rag  to  tie  on  it,"  he 


136  JO'S  BOYS. 

said,  quickly  filling  a  sponge  with  water  and  pulling  out 
a  very  demoralized  handkerchief. 

Rob  usually  made  light  of  his  own  mishaps  and  was 
over  ready  to  forgive  if  others  were  to  blame  ;  but  now 
he  sat  quite  still,  looking  at  the  purple  marks  with  such 
a  strange  expression  on  his  white  face  that  Ted  was 
troubled,  though  he  added  with  a  laugh,  "Why,  you're 
not  afraid  of  a  little  dig  like  that,  are  }tou,  Bobby?" 

"lam  afraid  of  hydrophobia.  But  if  Don  is  mad  I  'd 
rather  be  the  one  to  have  it,"  answered  Rob,  with  a 
smile  and  a  shiver. 

At  that  dreadful  word  Ted  turned  whiter  than  his 
brother,  and,  dropping  sponge  and  handkerchief,  stared 
at  him  with  a  frightened  face,  whispering  in  a  tone  of 
despair,  — 

"Oh,  Rob,  don't  say  it!  What  shall  we  do,  what 
shall  we  do?" 

"  Call  Nan  ;  she  will  know.  Don't  scare  Aunty,  or 
tell  a  soul  but  Nan  ;  she 's  on  the  back  piazza  ;  get  her 
out  here  as  quick  as  you  can.  I  '11  wash  it  till  she 
comes.  Maybe  it 's  nothing  ;  don't  look  so  staggered, 
Ted.     I  onlj-  thought  it  might  be,  as  Don  is  queer." 

Rob  tried  to  speak  bravely  ;  but  Ted's  long  legs  felt 
strangeljT  weak  as  he  hurried  awa}*,  and  it  was  lucky  he 
met  no  one,  for  his  face  would  have  betrayed  him.  Nan 
was  swinging  luxuriously  in  a  hammock,  amusing  her- 
self with  a  livel3r  treatise  on  croup,  when  an  agitated 
bo}'  suddenly  clutched  her,  whispering,  as  he  nearly 
pulled  her  overboard,  — 

"  Come  to  Rob  in  the  barn  !  Don's  mad  and  he's 
bitten  him,  and  we  don't  know  what  to  do ;  it's  all  my 
fault ;  no  one  must  know.     Oh,  do  be  quick  !  " 


THE  LION  AND   THE  LAMB.  137 

Nan  was  on  her  feet  at  once,  startled,  but  with  he? 
wits  about  her,  and  both  were  off  without  more  words 
as  they  dodged  round  the  house  where  unconscious 
Daisy  chatted  with  her  friends  in  the  parlor  and  Aunt 
Meg  peacefully  took  her  afternoon  nap  upstairs. 

Rob  had  braced  up,  and  was  as  calm  and  steady  as 
ever  when  they  found  him  in  the  harness-room,  whither 
he  had  wisely  retired,  to  escape  observation.  The  story 
was  soon  told,  and  after  a  look  at  Don,  now  in  his  ken- 
nel, sad  and  surly,  Nan  said  slowly,  with  her  eye  or 
the  full  water-pan,  — 

"  Rob,  there  is  one  thing  to  do  for  the  sake  of  safety, 
and  it  must  be  done  at  once.  We  can't  wait  to  see  il 
Don  is  —  sick  —  or  to  go  for  a  doctor.  I  can  do  it, 
and  I  will ;  but  it  is  very  painful,  and  I  hate  to  hurt 
you,  dear." 

A  most  unprofessional  quiver  got  into  Nan's  voice  as 
she  spoke,  and  her  keen  e}Tes  dimmed  as  she  looked  at 
the  two  anxious  young  faces  turned  so  confidingly  to 
her  for  help. 

"  I  know,  burn  it ;  well,  do  it,  please  ;  I  can  bear  it. 
But  Ted  better  go  away,"  said  Rob,  with  a  firm  setting 
of  his  lips,  and  a  nod  at  his  afflicted  brother. 

"  I  won't  stir ;  I  can  stand  it  if  he  can,  only  it  ought 
to  be  me  ! "  cried  Ted,  with  a  desperate  effort  not  to 
cry,  so  full  of  grief  and  fear  and  shame  was  he  that 
it  seemed  as  if  he  could  n't  bear  it  like  a  man. 

"He'd  better  stay  and  help;  do  him  good,"  an- 
swered Nan,  sternly,  because  her  heart  was  faint  within 
her,  knowing  as  she  did  all  that  might  be  in  store  for 
both  poor  boys.  ' '  Keep  quiet ;  I  '11  be  back  in  a 
minute,"  she   added,    going   toward  the  house,  while 


138  JO'S  BOYS. 

her  quick  mind  hastily  planned  what  was  best  to  be 
done. 

It  was  ironing  day,  and  a  hot  fire  still  burned  in  the 
empt}*  kitchen,  for  the  maids  were  upstairs  resting. 
Nan  put  a  slender  poker  to  heat,  and  as  she  sat  waiting 
for  it,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  asking  help  in 
this  sudden  need,  —  strength,  courage,  and  wisdom  ;  for 
there  was  no  one  else  to  call  upon,  and  young  as  she 
was,  she  knew  what  was  to  be  done  if  she  only  had  the 
nerve  to  do  it.  Airy  other  patient  would  have  been 
calmly  interesting,  but  dear,  good  Robin,  his  father's 
pride,  his  mother's  comfort,  every  one's  favorite  and 
friend,  that  he  should  be  in  danger  was  very  terrible  ; 
and  a  few  hot  tears  dropped  on  the  well-scoured  table 
as  Nan  tried  to  calm  her  trouble  b}T  remembering  how 
very  likely  it  was  to  be  all  a  mistake,  a  natural  but 
vain  alarm. 

"I  must  make  light  of  it  or  the  bo3~s  will  break 
down,  and  then  there  will  be  a  panic.  Why  afflict  and 
frighten  every  one  when  all  is  in  doubt?  I  won't. 
I'll  take  Rob  to  Dr.  Morrison  at  once,  and  have  the 
dog  man  to  see  Don.  Then,  having  done  all  we  can, 
we  will  either  laugh  at  our  scare,  —  if  it  is  one,  — 
or  be  ready  for  whatever  comes.  Now  for  mjr  poor 
boy." 

Armed  with  the  red-hot  poker,  a  pitcher  of  ice-water; 
and  several  handkerchiefs  from  the  clothes-horse,  Nan 
went  back  to  the  barn,  ready  to  do  her  best  in  this  her 
most  serious  "  emergency  case."  The  bojTs  sat  like 
statues,  one  of  despair,  the  other  of  resignation ;  and 
it  took  all  Nan's  boasted  nerve  to  do  her  work  quickly 
and  well. 


THE  LION  AND    THE  LAMB.  139 

"  Now,  Rob,  only  a  minute,  then  we  are  safe.  Stand 
by,  Ted  ;  he  may  be  a  bit  faintish." 

Rob  shut  his  e}Tes,  clinched  his  hands,  and  sat  like 
a  hero.  Ted  knelt  behind  him,  white  as  a  sheet,  and  as 
weak  as  a  girl ;  for  the  pangs  of  remorse  were  rending 
him,  and'  his  heart  failed  at  the  thought  of  all  this  pain 
because  of  his  wilfulness.  It  was  all  over  in  a  mo- 
ment, with  only  one  little  groan  ;  but  when  Nan  looked 
to  her  assistant  to  hand  the  water,  poor  Ted  needed  it 
the  most,  for  he  had  fainted  away,  and  lay  on  the  floor 
in  a  pathetic  heap  of  arms  and  legs. 

Rob  laughed,  and,  cheered  by  that  unexpected  sound, 
Nan  bound  up  the  wound  with  hands  that  never  trem- 
bled, though  great  drops  stood  on  her  forehead ;  and 
she  shared  the  water  with  patient  number  one  before 
she  turned  to  patient  number  two.  Ted  was  much 
ashamed,  and  quite  broken  in  spirit,  when  he  found 
how  he  had  failed  at  the  critical  moment,  and  begged 
them  not  to  tell,  as  he  really  could  not  help  it ;  then  by 
way  of  finishing  his  utter  humiliation,  a  burst  of  hys- 
terical tears  disgraced  his  manly  soul,  and  did  him  a 
World  of  good. 

"  Never  mind,  never  mind,  we  are  all  right  now,  and 
nc  one  need  be  the  wiser,"  said  Nan,  briskly,  as  poor 
Ted  hiccoughed  on  Rob's  shoulder,  laughing  and  cry- 
ing in  the  most  tempestuous  manner,  while  his  brothei- 
soothed  him,  and  the  young  doctor  fanned  both  with 
Silas's  old  straw  hat. 

"  Now,  boys,  listen  to  me  and  remember  what  I  say 
We  won't  alarm  any  one  yet,  for  I've  made  up  my 
mind  our  scare  is  all  nonsense.  Don  was  out  lapping 
the  water  as  I  came  by,  and  I  don't  believe  he 's  mad 


140  JO'S  BOYS. 

any  more  than  I  am.  Still,  to  ease  our  minds  and 
compose  our  spirits,  and  get  our  guihy  faces  out  of 
sight  for  a  while,  I  think  we  had  better  drive  in  town 
to  my  old  Dr.  Morrison,  and  let  him  just  take  a  look  at 
my  work,  and  give  us  some  quieting  little  dose  ;  for  we 
are  all  rather  shaken  by  this  flurry.  Sit  still,  Rob, 
and  Ted,  you  harness  up  while  I  run  and  get  my  hat 
and  tell  Aunt}'  to  excuse  me  to  Dais}'.  I  don't  know 
those  Penniman  girls,  and  she  will  be  glad  of  our  room 
at  tea,  and  we'll  have  a  cosey  bite  at  nry  house,  and 
come  home  as  gay  as  larks." 

Nan  talked  on  as  a  vent  for  the  hidden  emotions 
which  professional  pride  would  not  allow  her  to  show, 
and  the  boys  approved  her  plan  at  once  ;  for  action  is 
always  easier  than  quiet  waiting.  Ted  went  staggering 
awa}T  to  wash  his  face  at  the  pump,  and  rub  some  color 
into  his  cheeks  before  he  harnessed  the  horse.  Rob  lay 
tranquilly  on  the  ha}*,  looking  up  at  the  swallows  again 
as  he  lived  through  some  very  memorable  moments. 
Boy  as  he  was,  the  thought  of  death  coming  suddenly  to 
him,  and  in  this  wa3r,  might  well  make  him  sober ;  for 
it  is  a  veiy  solemn  thing  to  be  arrested  in  the  midst  of 
busy  life  by  the  possibility  of  the  great  change.  There 
were  no  sins  to  be  repented  of,  few  faults,  and  many 
happy,  dutiful  years  to  remember  with  infinite  comfort. 
So  Rob  had  no  fears  to  daunt  him,  no  regrets  to  sadden, 
and,  best  of  all,  a  very  strong  and  simple  piety  to  sus- 
tain and  cheer  him. 

"  Mein  Vater,"  was  his  first  thought ;  for  Rob  was 
very  near  the  Professor's  heart,  and  the  loss  of  his 
eldest  would  have  been  a  bitter  blow.  These  words, 
whispered  with  a  tremble  of  the  lips  that  had  been  so 


THE  LION  AND   THE  LAMB.  141 

firm  when  the  hot  iron  burned,  recalled  that  other 
Father  who  is  always  near,  always  tender  and  helpful ; 
and,  folding  his  hands,  Rob  said  the  heartiest  little 
prayer  he  ever  prayed,  there  on  the  hay,  to  the  soft 
twitter  of  the  brooding  birds.  It  did  him  good ;  and 
wisely  laying  all  his  fear  and  doubt  and  trouble  in 
God's  hand,  the  bo}*  felt  ready  for  whatever  was  to 
come,  and  from  that  hour  kept  steadily  before  him  the 
one  duty  that  was  plain, — to  be  brave  and  cheerful, 
keep  silent,  and  hope  for  the  best. 

Nan  stole  her  hat,  and  left  a  note  on  Daisy's  pin- 
cushion, saying  she  had  taken  the  boys  to  drive,  and 
all  would  be  out  of  the  way  till  after  tea.  Then  she 
hurried  back  and  found  her  patients  much  better,  the 
one  for  work,  the  other  for  rest.  In  they  got,  and,  put- 
ting Rob  on  the  back  seat  with  his  leg  up,  drove  away, 
looking  as  gay  and  care-free  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

Dr.  Morrison  made  light  of  the  affair,  but  told  Nan 
she  had  done  right ;  and  as  the  much-relieved  lads 
went  downstairs,  he  added  in  a  whisper,  "  Send  the 
dog  off  for  a  wThile,  and  keep  }rour  e3Te  on  the  boy. 
Don't  let  him  know  it,  and  report  to  me  if  anything 
seems  wrong.  One  never  knows  in  these  cases.  No 
harm  to  be  careful." 

Nan  nodded,  and  feeling  much  relieved  now  that  the 
responsibility  was  off  her  shoulders,  took  the  lads  to 
Dr.  Watkins,  who  promised  to  come  out  later  and  ex- 
amine Don.  A  merry  tea  at  Nan's  house,  which  was 
kept  open  for  her  all  summer,  did  them  good,  and  by 
the  time  they  got  home  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  no 
sign  of  the  panic  remained  but  Ted's  heavy  eyes,  and  a 
slight  limp  when  Rob  walked.     As  the  guests  were  still 


142  JO'S  BOYS. 

chattering  on  the  front  piazza  they  retired  to  the  back, 
and  Ted  soothed  his  remorseful  soul  by  swinging  Rob 
in  the  hammock,  while  Nan  told  stories  till  the  dog  man 
arrived. 

He  said  Don  was  a  little  under  the  weather,  but  no 
more  mad  than  the  gray  kitten  that  purred  round  his 
legs  while  the  examination  went  on. 

"  He  wants  his  master,  and  feels  the  heat.  Fed  too 
well,  perhaps.  I'll  keep  him  a  few  weeks  and  send  him 
home  all  right,"  said  Dr.  Watkins,  as  Don  laid  his 
great  head  in  his  hand,  and  kept  his  intelligent  eyes  on 
his  face,  evidently  feeling  that  this  man  understood  his 
trials,  and  knew  what  to  do  for  him. 

So  Don  departed  without  a  murmur,  and  our  three  con- 
spirators took  counsel  together  how  to  spare  the  family 
all  anxiety,  and  give  Rob  the  rest  his  leg  demanded. 
Fortunately,  he  always  spent  man}-  hours  in  his  little 
study,  so  he  could  lie  on  the  sofa  with  a  book  in  his 
hand  as  long  as  he  liked,  without  exciting  any  remark. 
Being  of  a  quiet  temperament,  he  did  not  worry  himself 
or  Nan  with  useless  fears,  but  believed  what  was  told 
him,  and  dismissing  all  dark  possibilities,  went  cheer- 
fully on  his  wa}T,  soon  recovering  from  the  shock  of 
what  he  called  "  our  scare." 

But  excitable  Ted  was  harder  to  manage,  and  it  took 
all  Nan's  wit  and  wisdom  to  keep  him  from  betraying 
the  secret ;  for  it  was  best  to  say  nothing  and  spare  all 
discussion  of  the  subject  for  Rob's  sake.  Ted's  remorse 
prej-ed  upon  him,  and  having  no  "  Mum"  to  confide  in, 
he  was  very  miserable.  By  da}r  he  devoted  himself  to 
Rob,  waiting  on  him,  talking  to  him,  gazing  anx- 
iously  at    him,   and   worrying   the   good    fellow   very 


THE  LION  AND    THE  LAMB.  143 

much ;  though  he  would  n't  own  it,  since  Ted  found 
comfort  in  it.  But  at  night,  when  all  was  quiet,  Ted's 
lively  imagination  and  heavy  heart  got  the  better  of  him, 
and  kept  him  awake,  or  set  him  walking  in  his  sleep. 
Nan  had  her  eye  on  him,  and  more  than  once  adminis- 
tered a  little  dose  to  give  him  rest,  read  to  him,  scolded 
him,  and  when  she  caught  him  haunting  the  house  in  the 
watches  of  the  night,  threatened  to  lock  him  up  if  he 
did  not  stay  in  his  bed. 

This  wore  off  after  a  while  ;  but  a  change  came  over 
the  freakish  boy,  and  every  one  observed  it,  even  before 
his  mother  returned  to  ask  what  they  had  done  to  quench 
the  Lion's  spirits.  He  was  gay,  but  not  so  heedless ; 
and  often  when  the  old  wilfulness  beset  him,  he  would 
check  it  sharply,  look  at  Rob,  and  give  up,  or  stalk 
away  to  have  his  sulk  out  alone.  He  no  longer  made 
fun  of  his  brother's  old-fashioned  ways  and  bookish 
Pastes,  but  treated  him  with  a  new  and  very  marked 
respect,  which  touched  and  pleased  modest  Rob,  and 
much  amazed  all  observers.  It  seemed  as  if  he  felt  that 
he  owed  him  reparation  for  the  foolish  act  that  might 
have  cost  him  his  life ;  and  love  being  stronger  than 
will,  Ted  forgot  his  pride,  and  paid  his  debt  like  an 
honest  bo}\ 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  after  a  week 
of  home  life,  much  impressed  by  the  good  behavior  of 
her  younger  son.  "Ted  is  such  a  saint,  I'm  afraid 
we  are  going  to  lose  him.  Is  it  Meg's  sweet  influence, 
or  Daisy's  fine  cooking,  or  the  pellets  I  catch  Nan  giv- 
ing him  on  the  sly  ?  Some  witchcraft  has  been  at  work 
during  my  absence,  and  this  will-o'-the-wisp  is  so  amia- 
ble, quiet,  and  obedient,  I  don't  know  him  " 


144  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  He  is  growing  up,  heart's-dearest,  and  being  a  pre- 
cocious plant,  he  begins  to  bloom  early.  I  also  see  a 
change  in  my  Robchen.  He  is  more  manly  and  serious 
than  ever,  and  is  seldom  far  from  me,  as  if  his  love  for 
the  old  papa  was  growing  with  his  growth.  Our  boys 
will  often  surprise  us  in  this  wra}T,  Jo,  and  we  can  only 
rejoice  over  them  and  leave  them  to  become  what  Gott 
pleases." 

As  the  Professor  spoke,  his  e3Tes  rested  proudly  on 
the  brothers,  who  came  walking  up  the  steps  together, 
Ted's  arm  over  Rob's  shoulder  as  he  listened  attentively 
to  some  geological  remarks  Rob  was  making  on  a  stone 
he  held.  Usually,  Ted  made  fun  of  such  tastes,  and 
loved  to  lay  boulders  in  the  student's  path,  put  brickbats 
under  his  pillow,  gravel  in  his  shoes,  or  send  parcels  of 
dirt  by  express  to  "Prof.  R.  M.  Bhaer."  Lately,  he 
had  treated  Rob's  hobbies  respectfully,  and  had  begun  to 
appreciate  the  good  qualities  of  this  quiet  brother  whom 
he  had  always  loved  but  rather  undervalued,  till  his 
courage  under  fire  won  Ted's  admiration,  and  made  it 
impossible  to  forget  a  fault,  the  consequences  of  which 
might  have  been  so  terrible.  The  leg  was  still  lame, 
though  doing  well,  and  Ted  was  alwa}~s  offering  an  arm 
as  support,  gazing  anxiously  at  his  brother,  and  tiding 
to  guess  his  wants ;  for  regret  was  still  keen  in  Ted's 
soul,  and  Rob's  forgiveness  only  made  it  deeper.  A 
fortunate  slip  on  the  stairs  gave  Rob  an  excuse  for 
limping,  and  no  one  but  Nan  and  Ted  saw  the  wound  ; 
so  the  secret  was  safe  up  to  this  time. 

"  We  are  talking  about  you,  my  lads.  Come  in  and 
tell  us  what  good  fairy  has  been  at  work  while  we  were 
gone.     Or  is  it  because  absence  sharpens  our  ejTes,  that 


THE  LION  AND   THE  LAMB.  145 

we  find  such  pleasant  changes  when  we  come  back  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Jo,  patting  the  sofa  on  either  side,  while  the 
Professor  forgot  his  piles  of  letters  to  admire  the  pleas- 
ing prospect  of  his  wife  in  a  bower  of  arms,  as  the  boys 
sat  down  beside  her,  smiling  affectionately,  but  feeling 
a  little  guilty  ;  for  till  now  "  Mum  "  and  "  Vater"  knew 
every  event  in  their  boyish  lives. 

"  Oh,  it's  only  because  Bobby  and  I  have  been  alone 
so  much ;  we  are  sort  of  twins.  I  stir  him  up  a  bit, 
and  he  steadies  me  a  great  deal.  You  and  father  do  the 
same,  you  know.  Nice  plan.  I  like  it ;  "  and  Ted  felt 
that  he  had  settled  the  matter  capitally. 

"  Mother  won't  thank  you  for  comparing  yourself  to 
her,  Ted.  I  'm  flattered  at  being  like  father  in  any  way, 
I  try  to  be,"  answered  Rob,  as  they  laughed  at  Ted's 
compliment. 

"I  do  thank  him,  for  it 's  true ;  and  if  you,  Robin, 
do  half  as  much  for  your  brother  as  Papa  has  for  me, 
your  life  won't  be  a  failure,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  heartily, 
"I'm  very  glad  to  see  you  helping  one  another.  It's 
the  right  way,  and  we  can't  begin  too  soon  to  try  to 
understand  the  needs,  virtues,  and  failings  of  those 
nearest  us.  Love  should  not  make  us  blind  to  faults, 
nor  familiarity  make  us  too  ready  to  blame  the  shortcom- 
ings we  see.  So  work  awa}T,  my  sonnies,  and  give  us 
more  surprises  of  this  sort  as  often  as  you  like." 

"  The  liebe  Mutter  has  said  all.  I  too  am  well 
pleased  at  the  friendly  brother-warmth  I  find.  It  is 
good  for  ever}r  one  ;  long  may  it  last !  "  and  Professor 
Bhaer  nodded  at  the  boys,  who  looked  gratified,  but 
rather  at  a  loss  how  to  respond  to  these  flattering 
remarks. 

10 


146  JO'S  BOYS. 

Rob  wisely  kept  silent,  fearing  to  say  too  much  ;  but 
Ted  burst  out,  finding  it  impossible  to  help  telling  some- 
thing, — 

"The  fact  is  I've  been  finding  out  what  a  brave, 
good  chap  Bobby  is,  and  I'm  tr}ing  to  make  up  for  all 
the  bother  I  've  been  to  him.  I  knew  he  was  awfully 
wise,  but  I  thought  him  rather  soft,  because  he  liked 
books  better  than  larks,  and  was  alwa}Ts  fussing  about 
his  conscience.  But  I  begin  to  see  that  it  is  n't  the 
fellows  who  talk  loudest  and  show  off  best  that  are  the 
manliest.  No,  sir !  quiet  old  Bob  is  a  hero  and  a  trump, 
and  I  'm  proud  of  him  ;  so  would  you  be  if  you  knew  all 
about  it." 

Here  a  look  from  Rob  brought  Ted  up  with  a  round 
turn ;  he  stopped  short,  grew  red,  and  clapped  his  hand 
on  his  mouth  in  dismay. 

' '  Well,  are  we  not  to  i  know  all  about  it ? '"  asked 
Mrs.  Jo,  quickly ;  for  her  sharp  eye  saw  signs  of  danger 
and  her  maternal  heart  felt  that  something  had  come 
between  her  and  her  sons.  "Boys,"  she  went  on  sol- 
emnly, "  I  suspect  that  the  change  we  talk  about  is  not 
altogether  the  effect  of  growing  up,  as  we  say.  It 
strikes  me  that  Ted  has  been  in  mischief  and  Rob  has 
got  him  out  of  some  scrape  ;  hence  the  lovely  mood  of 
my  bad  boy  and  the  sober  one  of  nry  conscientious  son, 
who  never  hides  anything  from  his  mother." 

Rob  was  as  red  as  Ted  now,  but  after  a  moment's 
hesitation  he  looked  up  and  answered  with  an  air  of 
relief,  — ■ 

"Yes,  mother,  that's  it;  but  it's  all  over  and  no 
harm  done,  and  I  think  we  'd  better  let  it  be,  for  a  while 
at  least*     I  did  feel  guilty  to  keep  anything  from  3-ou, 


THE  LION  AND    THE  LAMB.  147 

but  now  you  know  so  much  I  shall  not  worry  and  you 
need  n't  either.  Ted  's  sorry,  I  don't  mind,  and  it  has 
done  us  both  good." 

Mrs.  Jo  looked  at  Ted,  who  winked  hard  but  bore  the 
look  like  a  man ;  then  she  turned  to  Rob,  who  smiled  at 
her  so  cheerfully  that  she  felt  reassured  ;  but  something 
in  his  face  struck  her,  and  she  saw  what  it  was  that 
made  him  seem  older,  graver,  yet  more  lovable  than 
ever.  It  was  the  look  pain  of  mind,  as  well  as  body, 
brings,  and  the  patience  of  a  sweet  submission  to  some 
inevitable  trial.  Like  a  flash  she  guessed  that  some 
danger  had  been  near  her  boy,  and  the  glances  she  had 
caught  between  the  two  lads  and  Nan  confirmed  her 
fears. 

"  Rob,  dear,  3-ou  have  been  ill,  hurt,  or  seriously 
troubled  by  Ted  ?  Tell  me  at  once  ;  I  will  not  have 
any  secrets  now.  Boys  sometimes  suffer  all  their  lives 
from  neglected  accidents  or  carelessness.  Fritz,  make 
them  speak  out !  " 

Mr.  Bhaer  put  down  his  papers  and  came  to  stand 
before  them,  sa}ing  in  a  tone  that  quieted  Mrs.  Jo. 
and  gave  the  boys  courage,  — 

"My  sons,  give  us  the  truth.  We  can  bear  it;  do 
not  hold  it  back  to  spare  us.  Ted  knows  we  forgive 
much  because  we  love  him,  so  be  frank,  all  two." 

Ted  instantly  dived  among  the  sofa  pillows  and  kept 
there,  with  only  a  pair  of  scarlet  ears  visible,  while  Rob 
in  a  few  words  told  the  little  story,  truthfully,  but  as 
gentry  as  he  could,  hastening  to  add  the  comfortable 
assurance  that  Don  was  not  mad,  the  wound  nearly 
well,  and  no  danger  would  ever  come  of  it. 

Bnt  Mrs.  Jo  grew  so  pale  he  had  to  put  his  arms 


148  JO'S  BOYS. 

about  her,  and  his  father  turned  and  walked  away, 
exclaiming,  "  Ach  Himmel !  "  in  a  tone  of  such  mingled 
pain,  relief,  and  gratitude,  that  Ted  pulled  an  extra 
pillow  over  his  head  to  smother  the  sound.  They  were 
all  right  in  a  minute  ;  but  such  news  are  alwa}Ts  a  shock, 
even  if  the  peril  is  past;,  and  Mrs.  Jo  hugged  her  boy 
close  till  his  father  came  and  took  him  awaj^,  saying 
with  a  strong  shake  of  both  hands  and  a  quiver  in  his 
voice,  — 

"  To  be  in  danger  of  one's  life  tries  a  man's  mettle, 
and  you  bear  it  well ;  but  I  cannot  spare  my  good  boy 
yet ;  thank  Gott,  we  keep  him  safe  !  " 

A  smothered  sound,  between  a  choke  and  a  groan, 
came  from  under  the  pillows,  and  the  writhing  of  Ted's 
long  legs  so  plainly  expressed  despair  that  his  mother 
relented  toward  him,  and  burrowing  till  she  found  a 
touzled  yellow  head,  pulled  it  out  and  smoothed  it,  ex- 
claiming with  an  irrepressible  laugh,  though  her  cheeks 
were  wet  with  tears,  — 

"  Come  and  be  forgiven,  poor  sinner!  I  know  you 
have  suffered  enough,  and  I  won't  say  a  word ;  only  if 
harm  had  come  to  Rob  you  would  have  made  me  more 
miserable  than  yourself.  Oh,  Teddy,  Teddy,  do  try  to 
cure  that  wilful  spirit  of  yours  before  it  is  too  late  !  " 

"  Oh,  Mum,  I  do  try!  I  never  can  forget  this  —  I 
hope  it 's  cured  me ;  if  it  has  n't,  I  am  afraid  I  ain't 
worth  saving,"  answered  Ted,  pulling  his  own  hair  as 
the  only  way  of  expressing  his  deep  remorse. 

"  Yes,  you  are,  nry  dear  ;  I  felt  just  so  at  fifteen  when 
Amy  was  nearly  drowned,  and  Marmee  helped  me  as 
I'll  help  you.  Come  to  me,  Teddy,  when  the  evil  one 
gets  hold  of  you,  and  together  we  '11  rout  him.     Ah,  me ! 


THE  LION  AND    THE  LAMB.  149 

I've  had  many  a  tussle  with  that  old  Apollyon,  and 
often  got  worsted,  but  not  always.  Come  under  my 
shield,  and  we'll  fight  till  we   win." 

No  one  spoke  for  a  minute  as  Ted  and  his  mother 
laughed  and  cried  in  one  handkerchief,  and  Rob  stood 
with  his  father's  arm  round  him  so  happy  that  all  was 
told  and  forgiven,  though  never  to  be  forgotten ;  for 
such  experiences  do  one  good  and  knit  hearts  that  love 
more  closely  together. 

Presently  Ted  rose  straight  up  and  going  to  his 
father,  said  bravely  and  humbly,  — 

"  I  ought  to  be  punished.  Please  do  it ;  but  first  say 
jo\x  forgive  me,  as  Rob  does." 

"  Always  that,  mein  sohn,  seventy  times  seven,  if 
need  be,  else  I  am  not  worthy  the  name  you  give  me. 
The  punishment  has  come  ;  I  can  give  no  greater.  Let 
it  not  be  in  vain.  It  will  not  with  the  help  of  the 
mother  and  the  All  Father.  Room  here  for  both, 
always ! " 

The  good  Professor  opened  his  arms  and  embraced 
his  boys  like  a  true  German,  not  ashamed  to  express 
by  gesture  or  b}^  word  the  fatherly  emotions  an  Ameri- 
can would  have  compressed  into  a  slap  on  the  shoulder 
and  a  brief  "  All  right." 

Mrs.  Jo  sat  and  enjoj-ed  the  prospect  like  a  romantic 
soul  as  she  was,  and  then  the}T  had  a  quiet  talk  to- 
gether, saying  freely  all  that  was  in  their  hearts  and 
finding  much  comfort  in  the  confidence  which  comes 
when  love  casts  out  fear.  It  was  agreed  that  nothing 
be  said  except  to  Nan,  who  was  to  be  thanked  and  re- 
warded for  her  courage,  discretion,  and  fidelity. 

"I  always  knew  that  girl  had  the  making  of  a  fine 


150  JO'S  BOYS. 

woman  in  her,  and  this  proves  it.  No  panics  and 
shrieks  and  faintings  and  fuss,  but  calm  sense  and  en^ 
ergetic  skill.  Dear  child,  what  can  I  give  or  do  to 
show  my  gratitude?"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  enthusiastically. 

"  Make  Tom  clear  out  and  leave  her  in  peace,"  sug- 
gested Ted,  almost  himself  again,  though  a  pensive  haze 
still  partially  obscured  his  native  gayety. 

"  Yes,  do !  he  frets  her  like  a  mosquito.  She  forbade 
him  to  come  out  here  while  she  stayed,  and  packed  him 
off  with  Demi.  I  like  old  Tom,  but  he  is  a  regular 
noodle  about  Nan,"  added  Rob,  as  he  went  away  to 
help  his  father  with  the  accumulated  letters. 

"I'll  do  it!"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  decidedly.  "That 
girl's  career  shall  not  be  hampered  by  a  foolish  boy's 
fancy.  In  a  moment  of  weariness  she  may  give  in,  and 
then  it 's  all  over.  Wiser  women  have  clone  so  and  re- 
gretted it  all  their  lives.  Nan  shall  earn  her  place  first, 
and  prove  that  she  can  fill  it ;  then  she  ma}'  many  if 
she  likes,  and  can  find  a  man  worth}'  of  her." 

But  Mrs.  Jo's  help  was  not  neec'ed ;  for  love  and 
gratitude  can  work  miracles,  and  when  youth,  beauty, 
accident,  and  photography  are  added,  success  is  sure ; 
as  was  proved  in  the  case  of  the  unsuspecting  but  too 
susceptible  Thomas. 


CHAPTER  VHL 

JOS  IE  PLAYS  MERMAID. 

WHILE  the  young  Bhaers  were  having  serious 
experiences  at  home,  Josie  was  enjoying  her- 
self immensely  at  Rocky  Nook  ;  for  the  Laurences  knew 
how  to  make  summer  idleness  both  charming  and  whole- 
some. Bess  was  very  fond  of  her  little  cousin  ;  Mrs.  Amy 
felt  that  whether  her  niece  was  an  actress  or  not  she 
musthe  a  gentlewoman,  and  gave  her  the  social  training 
which  marks  the  well-bred  woman  everywhere  ;  while 
Uncle  Laurie  was  never  happier  than  when  rowing, 
riding,  playing,  or  lounging  with  two  gay  girls  beside 
him.  Josie  bloomed  like  a  wild  flower  in  this  free 
life,  Bess  grew  rosy,  brisk,  and  merry,  and  both  were 
great  favorites  with  the  neighbors,  whose  villas  were 
by  the  shore  or  perched  on  the  cliffs  along  the  pretty 
bay. 

One  crumpled  rose-leaf  disturbed  Josie's  peace,  one 
baffled  wish  filled  her  with  a  longing  which  became  a 
mania,  and  kept  her  as  restless  and  watchful  as  a  detec- 
tive with  a  case  to  "  work  up."  Miss  Cameron,  the  great 
actress,  had  hired  one  of  the  villas  and  retired  thither  to 
rest  and  "  create  "  a  new  part  for  next  season.  She  saw 
no  one  but  a  friend  or  two,  had  a  private  beach,  and 
was  invisible  except  during  her  daily  drive,  or  when  the 


152  JO'S  BOYS. 

opera-glasses  of  curious  gazers  were  fixed  on  a  blue  figure 
disporting  itself  in  the  sea.  The  Laurences  knew  her, 
but  respected  her  privacy,  and  after  a  call  left  her  in 
peace  till  she  expressed  a  wish  for  society,  —  a  courtesy 
which  she  remembered  and  repaid  later,  as  we  shall  see. 

But  Josie  was  like  a  thirsty  fly  buzzing  about  a  sealed 
honey-pot,  for  this  nearness  to  her  idol  was  both  de- 
lightful and  maddening.  She  pined  to  see,  hear,  talk 
with,  and  study  this  great  and  happy  woman  who  could 
thrill  thousands  by  her  art,  and  win  friends  by  her  vir- 
tue, benevolence,  and  beautj\  This  was  the  sort  of 
actress  the  girl  meant  to  be,  and  few  could  object  if  the 
gift  was  really  hers ;  for  the  stage  needs  just  such 
women  to  purify  and  elevate  the  profession  which  should 
teach  as  well  as  amuse.  If  kindly  Miss  Cameron  had 
known  what  passionate  love  and  longing  burned  in  the 
bosom  of  the  little  girl  whom  she  idly  observed  skipping 
over  the  rocks,  splashing  about  the  beach,  or  galloping 
past  her  gate  on  a  Shetland  pony,  she  would  have  made 
her  happy  by  a  look  or  a  word.  But  being  tired  with 
her  winter's  work  and  bus}T  with  her  new  part,  the  lady 
took  no  more  notice  of  this  }Toung  neighbor  than  of  the 
sea-gulls  in  the  bay  or  the  daisies  dancing  in  tne  fields. 
Nosegays  left  on  her  doorstep,  serenades  under  her 
garden-wall,  and  the  fixed  stare  of  admiring  eyes  were 
such  familiar  things  that  she  scarcely  minded  them  ;  and 
Josie  grew  desperate  when  all  her  little  attempts  failed. 

"  I  might  climb  that  pine-tree  and  tumble  off  on  her 
piazza  roof,  or  get  Sheltie  to  throw  me  just  at  her 
gate  and  be  taken  in  fainting.  It's  no  use  to  try  to 
drown  myself  when  she  is  bathing.  I  can't  sink,  and 
she  'd  only  send  a  man  to  pull  me  out.     What  can  I 


JOS  IE  PLAYS  MERMAID.  153 

do?  I  will  see  her  and  tell  her  m}T  hopes  and  make  hex 
say  I  can  act  some  day.  Mamma  would  believe  her} 
and  if — oh,  if  she  onry  icould  let  me  study  with  her, 
what  perfect  joy  that  would  be  !  " 

Josie  made  these  remarks  one  afternoon  as  she  and 
Bess  prepared  for  a  swim,  a  fishing  party  having  pre- 
vented their  morning  bath. 

"You  must  bide  your  time,  dear,  and  not  be  so  im- 
patient Papa  promised  to  give  you  a  chance  before 
the  season  is  over,  and  he  always  manages  things 
nicely.  That  will  be  better  than  any  queer  prank  of 
yours,"  answered  Bess,  tying  her  pretty  hair  in  a  white 
net  to  match  her  suit,  while  Josie  made  a  little  lobster 
of  herself  in  scarlet. 

"I  hate  to  wait;  but  I  suppose  I  must.  Hope  she 
will  bathe  this  afternoon,  though  it  is  low  tide.  She 
told  Uncle  she  should  have  to  go  in  then  because  in  the 
morning  people  stared  so  and  went  on  her  beach.  Come 
and  have  a  good  dive  from  the  big  rock.  No  one  round 
but  nurses  and  babies,  so  we  can  romp  and  splash  as 
much  as  we  like." 

Away  they  went  to  have  a  fine  time ;  for  the  little 
ba}T  was  free  from  other  bathers,  and  the  babies  greatly 
admired  their  aquatic  g}'mnastics,  both  being  expert 
swimmers. 

As  they  sat  dripping  on  the  big  rock  Josie  suddenly 
gave  a  clutch  that  nearly  sent  Bess  overboard,  as  she 
cried  excitedly,  "There  she  is  !  Look  !  coming  to  bathe. 
How  splendid !  Oh,  if  she  only  would  drown  a  little 
and  let  me  save  hej* !  or  even  get  her  toe  nipped  by  a 
crab  ;  anything  so  I  could  go  and  speak  !  " 

"  Don't  seem  to  look  ;  she  comes  to  be  quiet  and  en» 


154  JO'S  BOYS. 

joy  herself.  Pretend  we  don't  see  her,  that's  only 
civil,"  answered  Bess,  affecting  to  be  absorbed  in  a 
white-winged  yacht  going  by. 

"  Let's  carelessly  float  that  wa}r  as  if  going  for  sea- 
veed  on  the  rocks.  She  can't  mind  if  we  are  flat  on 
Dur  backs,  with  only  our  noses  out.  Then  when  we 
can't  help  seeing  her,  we  '11  swim  back  as  if  anxious  to 
retire.  That  will  impress  her,  and  she  ma}T  call  to 
thank  the  very  polite  young  ladies  who  respect  her 
wishes,"  proposed  Josie,  whose  lively  fancy  was  always 
planning  dramatic  situations. 

Just  as  they  were  going  to  slip  from  their  rock,  as  if 
Fate  relented  at  last,  Miss  Cameron  was  seen  to  beckon 
wildly  as  she  stood  waist-deep  in  the  water,  looking 
down.  She  called  to  her  maid,  who  seemed  searching 
along  the  beach  for  something,  and  not  finding  what  she 
sought,  waved  a  towel  toward  the  girls  as  if  summoning 
them  to  help  her. 

"  Run,  fly  !  she  wants  us,  she  wants  us  !  "  cried  Josie, 
tumbling  into  the  water  like  a  very  energetic  turtle,  and 
swimming  away  in  her  best  st}ie  toward  this  long-de- 
sired haven  of  joy.  Bess  followed  more  slowly,  and 
both  came  panting  and  smiling  up  to  Miss  Cameron, 
who  never  lifted  her  eyes,  but  said  in  that  wonderful 
voice  of  hers,  — 

"  I  Ve  dropped  a  bracelet.  I  see  it,  but  can't  get  it. 
Will  the  little  boy  find  me  a  long  stick  ?  I  '11  keep  my 
eye  on  it,  so  the  water  shall  not  wash  it  away." 

"  I  '11  dive  for  it  with  pleasure  ;  but  I  'm  not  a  boy/' 
answered  Josie,  laughing  as  she  shook  the  curly  head 
which  at  a  distance  had  deceived  the  lady. 

"  I  beg  3Tour  pardon.     Dive  away,  child  ;  the  sand  is 


JOSIE  PLAYS  MERMAID.  155 

covering  it  fast.  I  value  it  very  much.  Never  forgot 
to  take  it  off  before." 

"I'll  get  it!"  and  down  went  Josie,  to  come  up 
with  a  handful  of  pebbles,  but  no  bracelet. 

"It's  gone;  never  mind, — my  fault,"  said  Miss 
Cameron,  disappointed,  but  amused  at  the  girl's  dis- 
may as  she  shook  the  water  out  of  her  eyes  and  gasped 
bravely,  — 

"No,  it  isn't.  I'll  have  it,  if  I  stay  down  all 
night !  "  and  with  one  long  breath  Josie  dived  again, 
leaving  nothing  but  a  pair  of  agitated  feet  to  be  seen. 

"  I  'm  afraid  she  will  hurt  herself,"  said  Miss  Cam- 
eron, looking  at  Bess,  whom  she  recognized  by  her 
likeness  to  her  mother. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  Josie  is  a  little  fish.  She  likes  it ;  "  and 
Bess  smiled  happily  at  this  wonderful  granting  of  her 
cousin's  desire. 

"  You  are  Mr.  Laurence's  daughter,  I  think?  How 
d'  ye  do,  dear?  Tell  papa  I  'm  coming  to  see  him 
soon.  Too  tired  before.  Quite  savage.  Better  now. 
Ah!  here's  our  pearl  of  divers.  What  luck?"  she 
asked,  as  the  heels  went  down  and  a  dripping  head 
came  up. 

Josie  could  only  choke  and  splutter  at  first,  being 
half  strangled  ;  but  though  her  hands  had  failed  again, 
her  courage  had  not ;  and  with  a  resolute  shake  of  her 
wet  hair,  a  bright  look  at  the  tall  lad}r,  and  a  series  of 
puffs  to  fill  her  lungs,  she  said  calmly,  — 

"  '  Never  give  up'  is  my  motto.  I'm  going  to  get 
it,  if  I  go  to  Liverpool  for  it !  Now,  then  !  "  and  down 
went  the  mermaid  quite  out  of  sight  this  time,  groping 
like  a  real  lobster  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 


156  JO'S  BOYS. 

"Plucky  little  girl!  I  like  that.  Who  is  she?" 
asked  the  lady,  sitting  down  on  a  half-covered  stone  to 
watch  her  diver,  since  the  bracelet  was  lost  sight  of. 

Bess  told  her,  adding,  with  the  persuasive  smile  of 
her  father,  "  Josie  longs  to  be  an  actress,  and  has 
waited  for  a  month  to  see  you.  This  is  a  great  happi- 
ness for  her." 

"  Bless  the  child!  why  didn't  she  come  and  call? 
I  'd  have  let  her  in  ;  though  usually  I  avoid  stage-struck 
girls  as  I  do  reporters,"  laughed  Miss  Cameron. 

There  was  no  time  for  more  ;  a  brown  hand,  grasping 
the  bracelet,  rose  out  of  the  sea,  followed  by  a  purple 
face  as  Josie  came  up  so  blind  and  dizzy  she  could  only 
cling  to  Bess,  half  drowned  but  triumphant. 

Miss  Cameron  drew  her  to  the  rock  where  she  sat, 
and  pushing  the  hair  out  of  her  e3'es,  revived  her  with 
a  hearty  "  Bravo  !  bravo  !  "  which  assured  the  girl  that 
her  first  act  was  a  hit.  Josie  had  often  imagined  her 
meeting  with  the  great  actress,  —  the  dignity  and  grace 
with  which  she  would  enter  and  tell  her  ambitious 
hopes,  the  effective  dress  she  would  wear,  the  witty 
things  she  would  sa}T,  the  deep  impression  her  budding 
genius  would  make.  But  never  in  her  wildest  moments 
had  she  imagined  an  interview  like  this ;  scarlet, 
sandy,  streaming,  and  speechless  she  leaned  against 
the  illustrious  shoulder,  looking  like  a  beatified  seal 
as  she  blinked  and  wheezed  till  she  could  smile  joyfully 
and  exclaim  proudly,  — 

"I  did  get  it!     I 'm  so  glad  !  " 

"Now  get  3'our  breath,  my  dear;  then  I  shall  be 
glad  also.  It  -was  very  nice  of  you  to  take  all  that 
trouble  for  me.     How  shall  I  thank  3*ou?"  asked  the 


JOSIE  PLAYS  MERMAID.  157 

lady,  looking  at  her  with  the  beautiful  eyes  that  could 
say  so  man}7  things  without  words. 

Josie  clasped  her  hands  with  a  wet  spat  which  rather 
destined  the  effect  of  the  gesture,  and  answered  in  a 
beseeching  tone  that  would  have  softened  a  far  harder 
heart  than  Miss  Cameron's,  — 

"  Let  me  come  and  see  you  once,  — only  once  !  I 
want  you  to  tell  me  if  I  can  act ;  you  will  know.  I  '11 
abide  by  what  you  say  ;  and  if  you  think  I  can,  —  by 
and  by,  when  I  've  studied  very  hard,  —  I  shall  be  the 
happiest  girl  in  the  world.     May  I?" 

"Yes;  come  to-morrow  at  eleven.  We'll  have  a 
good  talk ;  you  shall  show  me  what  you  can  do,  and 
I  '11  give  you  my  opinion.     But  you  won't  like  it." 

"  I  will,  no  matter  if  you  tell  me  I  'm  a  fool.  I 
want  it  settled  ;  so  does  mamma.  I  '11  take  it  bravely 
if  you  say  no  ;  and  if  jom  say  yes,  I  '11  never  give  up 
till  I  've  done  my  best,  —  as  you  did." 

"Ah,  my  child,  it's  a  weary  road,  and  there  are 
plenty  of  thorns  among  the  roses  when  you  've  won 
them.  I  think  you  have  the  courage,  and  this  proves 
that  you  have  perseverance.  Perhaps  you  '11  do.  Come, 
and  we  '11  see." 

Miss  Cameron  touched  the  bracelet  as  she  spoke, 
and  smiled  so  kindly  that  impetuous  Josie  wanted  to 
kiss  her ;  but  wisely  refrained,  though  her  eyes  were 
wet  with  softer  water  than  any  in  the  sea  as  she 
thanked  her. 

"  We  are  keeping  Miss  Cameron  from  her  bath,  and 
the  tide  is  going  out.  Come,  Josie,"  said  thoughtful 
Bess,  fearing  to  outstay  their  welcome. 

"  Run  ovei  the  beach  and  get  warm.     Thank  you 


158  JO'S  BOYS. 

very  much,  little  mermaid.  Tell  papa  to  bring  his 
daughter  to  see  me  any  time.  Good-by  ;  "  and  with  a 
wave  of  her  hand  the  tragedy  queen  dismissed  ht 
court,  but  remained  on  her  weedy  throne  watching  the 
two  lithe  figures  race  over  the  sand  with  twinkling  feet 
till  they  were  out  of  sight.  Then,  as  she  calmly  bobbed 
up  and  down  in  the  water,  she  said  to  herself,  "  The 
child  has  a  good  stage  face,  vivid,  mobile ;  fine  eyes, 
abandon,  pluck,  will.  Perhaps  she  '11  do.  Good  stock, 
—  talent  in  the  family.     We  shall  see." 

Of  course  Josie  never  slept  a  wink,  and  was  in  a 
fever  of  joyful  excitement  next  da}r.  Uncle  Laurie  en- 
jo}-ed  the  episode  very  much,  and  Aunt  Amy  looked 
out  her  most  becoming  white  dress  for  the  grand  occa- 
sion ;  Bess  lent  her  most  artistic  hat,  and  Josie  ranged 
the  wood  and  marsh  for  a  bouquet  of  wild  roses,  sweet 
white  azalea,  ferns,  and  graceful  grasses,  as  the  offering 
of  a  very  grateful  heart. 

At  ten  she  solemnly  am^ed  herself,  and  then  sat 
looking  at  her  neat  gloves  and  buckled  shoes  till  it  was 
time  to  go,  growing  pale  and  sober  with  the  thought 
that  her  fate  was  soon  to  be  decided  ;  for,  like  all  }Toung 
people,  she  was  sure  that  her  whole  life  could  be  set- 
tled by  one  human  creature,  quite  forgetting  how 
wonderfully  Providence  trains  us  by  disappointment, 
surprises  us  with  unexpected  success,  and  turns  our 
seeming  trials  into  blessing. 

• "  I  will  go  alone  :  we  shall  be  freer  so.  Oh,  Bess, 
pray  that  she  may  tell  me  rightry  !  So  much  depends 
on  that !  Don't  laugh,  uncle !  It  is  a  very  serious 
moment  for  me.  Miss  Cameron  knows  that,  and  will 
tell  you  so.     Kiss  me,  Aunt  Amy,  since  mamma  is  n't 


JOSIE  PLAYS  MERMAID,  159 

here.  If  you  say  I  look  nice,  I'm  quite  satisfied. 
Good-by."  And  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  as  much 
like  her  model's  as  she  could  make  it,  Josie  departed, 
looking  very  pretty  and  feeling  very  tragical. 

Sure  now  of  admittance,  she  boldly  rung  at  the  door 
which  excluded  so  many,  and  being  ushered  into  a 
shady  parlor,  feasted  her  eyes  upon  several  fine  por- 
traits of  great  actors  while  she  waited.  She  had  read 
about  most  of  them,  and  knew  their  trials  and  tri- 
umphs so  well  that  she  soon  forgot  herself,  and  tried 
to  imitate  Mrs.  Sidclons  as  Lady  Macbeth,  looking  up 
at  the  engraving  as  she  held  her  nosegay  like  the  candle 
in  the  sleep-walking  scene,  and  knit  her  youthful  brows 
distressfully  while  murmuring  the  speech  of  the  haunted 
queen.  So  busy  was  she  that  Miss  Cameron  watched 
her  for  several  minutes  unseen,  then  startled  her  by 
suddenly  sweeping  in  with  the  words  upon  her  lips, 
the  look  upon  her  face,  which  made  that  one  of  her 
greatest  scenes. 

"I  never  can  do  it  like  that;  but  I '11  keep  trying, 
if  you  say  I  may,"  cried  Josie,  forgetting  her  manners 
in  the  intense  interest  of  the  moment. 

"  Show  me  what  3'ou  can  do,"  answered  the  actress, 
wisely  plunging  into  the  middle  of  things  at  once,  well 
knowing  that  no  common  chat  would  satisfy  this  very 
earnest  little  person. 

"First  let  me  give  you  these.  I  thought  you'd 
like  wild  things  better  than  hot-house  flowers ;  and 
I  loved  to  bring  them,  as  I  'd  no  other  way  to  thank 
you  for  your  great  kindness  to  me,"  said  Josie,  of- 
fering her  nosegay  with  a  simple  warmth  that  was  very 
sweet. 


160  JO'S  BOYS, 

11 1  do  love  them  best,  and  keep  my  room  full  of  the 
posies  some  good  fairy  hangs  on  my  gate.  Upon  nry 
word,  I  think  I  've  found  the  faiiy  out,  —  these  are  so 
like,"  she  added  quickly,  as  her  eye  went  from  the 
flowers  in  her  hand  to  others  that  stood  near  by,  ar- 
ranged with  the  same  taste. 

Josie's  blush  and  smile  betra}Ted  her  before  she 
said,  with  a  look  full  of  girlish  adoration  and 
humilit}r,  — 

"I  couldn't  help  it;  I  admire  }tou  so  much.  I 
know  it  was  a  libert}^ ;  but  as  I  could  n't  get  in  hry- 
self,  I  loved  to  think  my  roses  pleased  you." 

Something  about  the  child  and  her  little  offering 
touched  the  woman,  and  drawing  Josie  to  her,  she 
said,  with  no  trace  of  actress  in  face  or  voice,  — 

"  They  did  please  me,  dear,  and  so  do  3rou.  I'm 
tired  of  praise  ;  and  love  is  very  sweet,  when  it  is 
simple  and  sincere  like  this." 

Josie  remembered  to  have  heard,  among  many  other 
stories,  that  Miss  Cameron  lost  her  lover  }Tears  ago,  and 
since  had  lived  onry  for  art.  Now  she  felt  that  this 
might  have  been  true  ;  and  pity  for  the  splendid,  lonely 
life  made  her  face  very  eloquent,  as  well  as  grateful. 
Then,  as  if  anxious  to  forget  the  past,  her  new  friend 
said,  in  the  commanding  way  that  seemed  natural  to 
her,  — 

' '  Let  me  see  what  }tou  can  do.  Juliet,  of  course.  All 
begin  with  that.     Poor  soul,  how  she  is  murdered  !  " 

Now,  Josie  had  intended  to  begin  with  Romeo's 
much-enduring  sweetheart,  and  follow  her  up  with 
Bianca,  Pauline,  and  several  of  the  favorite  idols  of 
stage-struck   girls ;   but  being  a  shrewd  little  person, 


JOSIE  PLAYS  MERMAID.  161 

she  suddenly  saw  the  wisdom  of  Uncle  Laurie's  advice, 
and  resolved  to  follow  it.  So  instead  of  the  rant  Miss 
Cameron  expected,  Josie  gave  poor  Ophelia's  mad 
scene,  and  gave  it  very  well,  having  been  trained  by 
the  college  professor  of  elocution  and  clone  it  many 
times.  She  was  too  young,  of  course ;  but  the  white 
gown,  the  loose  hair,  the  real  flowers  she  scattered  over 
the  imaginary  grave,  added  to  the  illusion ;  and  she 
sung  the  songs  sweetly,  dropped  her  pathetic  courte- 
sies, and  vanished  behind  the  curtain  that  divided  the 
rooms  with  a  backward  look  that  surprised  her  critical 
auditor  into  a  quick  gesture  of  applause.  Cheered  by 
that  welcome  sound,  Josie  ran  back  as  a  little  hoyden 
in  one  ot  the  farces  she  had  often  acted,  telling  a 
stor}7  full  of  fun  and  naughtiness  at  first,  but  ending 
with  a  sob  of  repentance  and  an  earnest  prayer  for 
pardon. 

"Very  good  !  Try  again.  Better  than  I  expected," 
called  the  voice  of  the  oracle. 

Josie  tried  Portia's  speech,  and  recited  very  well, 
giving  clue  emphasis  to  each  fine  sentence.  Then,  un- 
able to  refrain  from  what  she  considered  her  greatest 
effort,  she  burst  into  Juliet's  balcony  scene,  ending  with 
the  poison  and  the  tomb.  She  felt  sure  that  she  sur- 
passed herself,  and  waited  for  applause.  A  ringing 
laugh  made  her  tingle  with  indignation  and  disappoint- 
ment, as  she  went  to  stand  before  Miss  Cameron, 
saj'ing  in  a  tone  of  polite  surprise,  — 

' '  I  have  been  told  that  I  did  it  very  well.  I  'm  sorry 
you  don't  think  so." 

' '  M}T  dear,  it 's  very  bad.  How  can  it  help  being 
so  ?    What  can  a  child  like  you  know  of  love  and  fear 

u 


162  JO'S  BOYS. 

and  death?  Don't  try  it  yet.  Leave  tragedy  alone 
till  }'ou  are  ready  for  it." 

"  But  you  clapped  Ophelia." 

"Yes,  that  was  very  pretty.  Any  clever  girl  can 
do  it  effectively.  But  the  real  meaning  of  Shakespeare 
is  far  above  jou  yet,  child.  The  corned}7  bit  was  best. 
There  jtou  showed  real  talent.  It  was  both  comic  and 
pathetic.  That 's  art.  Don't  lose  it.  The  Portia  was 
good  declamation.  Go  on  with  that  sort  of  thing ; 
it  trains  the  voice,  —  teaches  shades  of  expression. 
You  've  a  good  voice  and  natural  grace,  —  great  helps 
both,  hard  to  acquire." 

"  Well,  I  'm  glad  I  've  got  something,"  sighed  Josie, 
sitting  meekly  on  a  stool,  much  crestfallen,  but  not 
daunted  yet,  and  bound  to  have  her  say  out. 

"  My  dear  little  girl,  I  told  you  that  you  would  not 
like  what  I  should  say  to  you ;  yet  I  must  be  honest, 
if  I  would  realty  help  you.  I  've  had  to  do  it  for  many 
like  3T>u ;  and  most  of  them  have  never  forgiven  me, 
though  my  words  have  proved  true,  and  they  are  what  I 
advised  them  to  be,  —  good  wives  and  happy  mothers 
in  quiet  homes.  A  few  have  kept  on,  and  done  fairly 
well.  One  you  will  hear  of  soon,  I  think  ;  for  she  has 
talent,  indomitable  patience,  and  mind  as  well  as 
beauty.  You  *re  too  3Toung  to  show  to  which  class  you 
belong.  Geniuses  are  very  rare,  and  even  at  fifteen 
seldom  give  much  promise  of  future  power." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  I  'm  a  genius  !  "  cried  Josie,  grow- 
ing calm  and  sober  as  she  listened  to  the  melodious 
voice  and  looked  into  the  expressive  face  that  filled  her 
with  confidence,  so  strong,  sincere,  and  kindly  was  it. 
"  I  only  want  to  find  out  \f  I  have  talent  enough  to  go  on, 


JOSIE  PLAYS  MERMAID,  163 

and  after  years  of  study  be  able  to  act  well  in  any  of 
the  good  plays  people  never  tire  of  seeing.  I  don't 
expect  to  be  a  Mrs.  Siddons  or  a  Miss  Cameron, 
much  as  I  long  to  be ;  but  it  does  seem  as  if  I  had 
something  in  me  which  can't  come  out  in  any  way  but 
this.  When  I  act  I 'm  perfectly  happy.  I  seem  to  live, 
to  be  in  my  own  world,  and  each  new  part  is  a  new 
friend.  I  love  Shakespeare,  and  am  never  tired  of 
his  splendid  people.  Of  course  I  don't  understand  it 
all ;  but  it 's  like  being  alone  at  night  with  the  moun- 
tains and  the  stars,  solemn  and  grand,  and  I  try  to  im- 
agine how  it  will  look  when  the  sun  comes  up,  and  all 
is  glorious  and  clear  to  me.  I  can't  see,  but  I  feel  the 
beauty,  and  long  to  express  it." 

As  she  spoke  with  the  most  perfect  self-forgetfulness 
Josie  was  pale  with  excitement,  her  eyes  shone,  her  lips 
trembled,  and  all  her  little  soul  seemed  trying  to  put 
into  words  the  emotions  that  filled  it  to  overflowing. 
Miss  Cameron  understood,  felt  that  this  was  something 
more  than  a  girlish  whim ;  and  when  she  answered 
there  was  a  new  tone  of  sympatlry  in  her  voice,  a  new 
interest  in  her  face,  though  she  wisely  refrained  from 
saying  all  she  thought,  well  knowing  what  splendid 
dreams  young  people  build  upon  a  word,  and  how  bitter 
is  the  pain  when  the  bright  bubbles  burst. 

"  If  you  feel  this,  I  can  give  you  no  better  advice 
than  to  go  on  loving  and  studying  our  great  master," 
she  said  slowly  ;  but  Josie  caught  the  changed  tone,  and 
felt,  with  a  thrill  of  joy,  that  her  new  friend  was  speak- 
ing to  her  now  as  to  a  comrade.  "It  is  an  education 
in  itself,  and  a  lifetime  is  not  long  enough  to  teach  you 
all  his  secret.     But  there  is  much  to  do  before  you  can 


164  JO'S  BOYS. 

hope  to  echo  his  words.  Have  you  the  patience,  cour- 
age, strength,  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  slowly, 
painfully,  lay  the  foundation  for  future  work?  Fame  is 
a  pearl  many  dive  for  and  only  a  few  bring  up.  Even 
when  the}T  do,  it  is  not  perfect,  and  they  sigh  for  more, 
and  lose  better  things  in  struggling  for  them." 

The  last  words  seemed  spoken  more  to  herself  than 
to  her  hearer,  but  Josie  answered  quickly,  with  a  smile 
and  an  expressive  gesture,  — 

"  I  got  the  bracelet  in  spite  of  all  the  bitter  water  in 
my  eyes." 

"  You  did !  I  don't  forget  it.  A  good  omen.  We 
will  accept  it." 

Miss  Cameron  answered  the  smile  with  one  that  was 
like  sunshine  to  the  girl,  and  stretched  her  white  hand 
as  if  taking  some  invisible  gift.  Then  added  in  a  dif- 
ferent tone,  watching  the  effect  of  her  words  on  the 
expressive  face  before  her,  — 

"  Now  you  will  be  disappointed,  for  instead  of  telling 
jrou  to  come  and  study  with  me,  or  go  and  act  in  some 
second-rate  theatre  at  once,  I  advise  you  to  go  back  to 
school  and  finish  your  education.  That  is  the  first  step, 
for  all  accomplishments  are  needed,  and  a  single  talent 
makes  a  very  imperfect  character.  Cultivate  mind  and 
body,  heart  and  soul,  and  make  yourself  an  intelligent, 
graceful,  beautiful,  and  healthy  girl.  Then,  at  eighteen 
or  twenty,  go  into  training  and  try  your  powers.  Better 
start  for  the  battle  with  your  arms  in  order,  and  save 
the  hard  lesson  which  comes  when  we  rush  on  too  soon. 
Now  and  then  genius  carries  all  before  it,  but  not  often. 
We  have  to  climb  slowly,  with  many  slips  and  falls. 
Can  you  wait  as  well  as  work  ?  " 


JOSIE  PLAYS  MERMAID.  165 

«  I  will ! " 

"  We  shall  see.  It  would  be  pleasant  to  me  to  know 
that  when  I  quit  the  stage  I  leave  behind  me  a  well- 
trained,  faithful,  gifted  comrade  to  more  than  fill  my 
place,  and  carry  on  what  I  have  much  at  heart,  — the 
purification  of  the  stage.  Perhaps  you  are  she  ;  but 
remember,  mere  beauty  and  rich  costumes  do  not  make 
an  actress,  nor  are  the  efforts  of  a  clever  little  girl  to 
play  great  characters  real  art.  It  is  all  dazzle  and 
sham,  and  a  disgrace  and  disappointment  now.  Why 
will  the  public  be  satisfied  with  opera-bouffe,  or  the 
trash  called  society  plays,  when  a  world  of  truth  and 
beauty,  poetry  and  pathos,  lies  waiting  to  be  interpreted 
and  enjoyed?" 

Miss  Cameron  had  forgotten  to  whom  she  spoke,  and 
walked  to  and  fro,  full  of  the  noble  regret  all  cultivated 
people  feel  at  the  low  state  of  the  stage  nowadays. 

"  That 's  what  Uncle  Laurie  says  ;  and  he  and  Aunt  Jo 
try  to  plan  plays  about  true  and  lovely  things,  —  simple 
domestic  scenes  that  touch  people's  hearts,  and  make 
them  laugh  and  cry  and  feel  better.  Uncle  says  that 
sort  is  my  style,  and  I  must  not  think  of  tragedjT.  But 
it 's  so  much  nicer  to  sweep  about  in  crowns  and  velvet 
trains  than  to  wear  every-day  clothes,  and  just  be 
nryself,  though  it  is  so  easy." 

"  Yet  that  is  high  art,  child,  and  what  we  need  for  a 
time  till  we  are  ready  for  the  masters.-  Cultivate  that 
talent  of  yours.  It  is  a  special  gift,  this  power  to  bring 
tears  and  smiles,  and  a  sweeter  task  to  touch  the  heart 
than  to  freeze  the  blood  or  fire  the  imagination.  Tell 
your  uncle  he  is  right,  and  ask  your  aunt  to  try  a  play 
for  you.     I  '11  come  and  see  it  when  you  are  ready." 


166  JO'S  BOYS. 

"Willj-ou?  Oh!  will  you?  We  are  going  to  have 
some  at  Christmas,  with  a  nice  part  for  me.  A  simple 
little  thing,  but  I  can  do  it,  and  should  be  so  proud,  so 
happy,  to  have  you  there." 

Josie  rose  as  she  spoke,  for  a  glance  at  the  clock 
showed  her  that  her  call  was  a  long  one  ;  and  hard  as  it 
was  to  end  this  momentous  interview,  she  felt  that  she 
must  go.  Catching  up  her  hat  she  went  to  Miss  Cam- 
eron, who  stood  looking  at  her  so  keenly  that  she  felt 
as  transparent  as  a  pane  of  glass,  and  colored  prettily 
as  she  looked  up,  saj'ing,  with  a  grateful  little  tremor  in 
her  voice,  — 

"  I  can  never  thank  you  for  this  hour  and  all  you 
have  told  me.  I  shall  do  just  what  you  advise,  and 
mamma  will  be  very  glad  to  see  me  settled  at  my  books 
again.  I  can  study  now  with  all  m}T  heart,  because  it  is 
to  help  me  on  ;  and  I  won't  hope  too  much,  but  work 
and  wait,  and  try  to  please  you,  as  the  only  way  to  pay 
my  debt." 

"  That  reminds  me  that  I  have  not  paid  mine.  Little 
friend,  wear  this  for  my  sake.  It  is  fit  for  a  mermaid, 
and  will  remind  you  of  }Tour  first  dive.  May  the  next 
bring  up  a  better  jewel,  and  leave  no  bitter  water  on 
your  lips ! " 

As  she  spoke,  Miss  Cameron  took  from  the  lace  at 
her  throat  a  prett}T  pin  of  aqua-marine,  and  fastened  it 
like  an  order  on  Josie's  proud  bosom  ;  then  lifting  the 
happ3T  little  face,  she  kissed  it  very  tenderly,  and 
watched  it  go  smiling  awa}T  with  eyes  that  seemed  to 
see  into  a  future  full  of  the  trials  and  the  triumphs 
which  she  knew  so  well. 

Bess  expected  to  see  Josie  come  flying  in,  all  raptures 


JOSIE  PLAYS  MERMAID.  Wt 

and  excitement,  or  drowned  in  tears  of  disappointment, 
but  was  surprised  at  the  expression  of  calm  content  and 
resolution  which  she  wore.  Pride  and  satisfaction,  and 
a  new  feeling  of  responsibility  both  sobered  and  sus- 
tained her,  and  she  felt  that  any  amount  of  dry  study 
and  long  waiting  would  be  bearable,  if  in  the  glorious 
future  she  could  be  an  honor  to  her  profession  and  a 
comrade  to  the  new  friend  whom  she  already  adored 
with  girlish  ardor. 

She  told  her  little  story  to  a  deeply  interested  audi- 
ence, and  all  felt  that  Miss  Cameron's  advice  was  good. 
Mrs.  Amy  was  relieved  at  the  prospect  of  delay ;  for 
she  did  not  want  her  niece  to  be  an  actress,  and  hoped 
the  fancy  would  die  out. 

Uncle  Laurie  was  full  of  charming  plans  and  prophe- 
cies, and  wrote  one  of  his  most  delightful  notes  to  thank 
their  neighbor  for  her  kindness  ;  while  Bess,  who  loved 
art  of  all  kinds,  fully  sympathized  with  her  cousin's 
ambitious  hopes,  only  wondering  why  she  preferred  to 
act  out  her  visions  rather  than  embody  them  in  marble. 

That  first  interview  was  not  the  last ;  for  Miss  Cam- 
eron was  really  interested,  and  had  several  memorable 
conversations  with  the  Laurences,  while  the  girls  sat 
by,  drinking  in  every  word  with  the  delight  all  artists 
feel  in  their  own  beautiful  world,  and  learning  to  see 
how  sacred  good  gifts  are,  how  powerful,  and  how 
faithfully  they  should  be  used  for  high  ends,  each  in  its 
own  place  helping  to  educate,  refine,  and  refresh. 

Josie  wrote  reams  to  her  mother ;  and  when  the  visit 
ended  rejoiced  her  heart  by  bringing  her  a  somewhat 
changed  little  daughter,  who  fell  to  work  at  the  once- 
detested  books  with  a  patient  energy  which  surprised  and 


168  JO'S  BOYS. 

pleased  every  one.  The  right  string  had  been  touched, 
and  even  French  exercises  and  piano  practice  became 
endurable,  since  accomplishments  would  be  useful  by 
and  by ;  dress,  manners,  and  habits  were  all  interesting 
now,  because  "  mind  and  body,  heart  and  soul,  must 
be  cultivated,"  and  while  training  to  become  an  "  intel- 
ligent, graceful,  healthy  girl,"  little  Josie  was  uncon- 
sciously fitting  herself  to  play  her  part  well  on  whatever 
stage  the  great  Manager  might  prepare  for  her* 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   WORM  TURNS. 

TWO  very  superior  bicycles  went  twinkling  up  the 
road  to  Plumfield  one  September  afternoon,  bear- 
ing two  brown  and  dusty  riders  evidently  returning 
from  a  successful  run,  for  though  their  legs  might  be  a 
trifle  weary,  their  faces  beamed  as  they  surveyed  the 
world  from  their  lofty  perches  with  the  air  of  calm  con- 
tent all  wheelmen  wear  after  they  have  learned  to  ride  ; 
before  that  happy  period  anguish  of  mind  and  body  is 
the  chief  expression  of  the  manly  countenance. 

"  Go  ahead  and  report,  Tom;  I'm  due  here.  See 
you  later,"  said  Demi,  swinging  himself  down  at  the 
door  of  the  Dove-cote. 

"  Don't  peach,  there's  a  good  fellow.  Let  me  have 
it  out  with  Mother  Bhaer  first,"  returned  Tom,  wheeling 
in  at  the  gate  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

Demi  laughed,  and  his  comrade  went  slowly  up  the 
avenue,  devoutly  hoping  that  the  coast  was  clear ;  for  he 
was  the  bearer  of  tidings  which  would,  he  thought, 
convulse  the  entire  family  with  astonishment  and 
dismay. 

To  his  great  joy  Mrs.  Jo  was  discovered  alone  in  a 
grove  of  proof-sheets,  which  she  dropped,  to  greet  the 
returning  wanderer  cordially.    But  after  the  first  glance 


170  JO'S  BOYS. 

she  saw  that  something  was  the  matter,  recent  events 
having  made  her  unusually  sharp-eyed  and  suspicious. 

"  What  is  it  now,  Tom?"  she  asked,  as  he  subsided 
into  an  easy-chair  with  a  curious  expression  of  mingled 
fear,  shame,  amusement,  and  distress  in  his  brick-red 
countenance. 

"  I'm  in  an  awful  scrape,  ma'am." 

"Of  course;  I'm  always  prepared  for  scrapes  when 
you  appear.  What  is  it?  Run  over  some  old  lad}~  who 
is  going  to  law  about  it?"  asked  Mrs.  Jo,  cheerfully. 

1 '  Worse  than  that,"  groaned  Tom. 

"  Not  poisoned  some  trusting  soul  who  asked  j*ou  to 
prescribe,  I  hope?  " 

"  Worse  than  that," 

"  You  have  n't  let  Demi  catch  any  horrid  thing  and 
left  him  behind,  have  you?" 

"  Worse  even  than  that." 

"  I  give  it  up.  Tell  me  quick ;  I  hate  to  wait  for  bad 
news." 

Having  got  his  listener  sufficiently  excited,  Tom 
launched  his  thunderbolt  m  one  brief  sentence,  and  fell 
back  to  watch  the  effect. 

"  I  'm  engaged ! " 

Mrs.  Jo's  proof-sheets  flew  wildly  about  as  she  clasped 
her  hands,  exclaiming  in  dismay,  — 

"  If  Nan  has  yielded,  I  '11  never  forgive  her ! n 

"  She  has  n't ;  it's  another  girl." 

Tom's  face  was  so  funny  as  he  said  the  words,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  help  laughing;  for  he  looked  both 
sheepish  and  pleased,  besides  very  much  perplexed  and 
worried. 

"  I  'm  glad,  very  glad  indeed  !     Don't  care  who  it  is; 


THE    WORM  TURNS.  171 

and  I  hope  you  '11  be  married  soon.  Now  tell  me  all 
about  it,"  commanded  Mrs.  Jo,  so  much  relieved  that 
she  felt  ready  for  anything. 

"  "What  will  Nan  say  ?  "  demanded  Tom,  rather  taken 
aback  at  this  view  of  his  predicament. 

"  She  will  be  rejoiced  to  get  rid  of  the  mosquito  who 
has  plagued  her  so  long.  Don't  worry  about  Nan. 
Who  is  this  '  other  girl  ? '  " 

"  Demi  has  n't  written  about  her?  " 

"•  Only  something  about  your  upsetting  a  Miss  West 
down  at  Quitno ;  I  thought  that  was  scrape  enough." 

"  That  was  only  the  beginning  of  a  series  of  scrapes. 
Just  my  luck  !  Of  course  after  sousing  the  poor  girl  I 
had  to  be  attentive  to  her,  hadn't  I?  Every  one  seemed 
to  think  so,  and  I  could  n't  get  away,  and  so  I  was  lost 
before  I  knew  it.  It 's  all  Demi's  fault ;  he  would  stay 
there  and  fuss  with  his  old  photos,  because  the  views 
were  good  and  all  the  girls  wanted  to  be  taken.  Look 
at  these,  will  you,  ma'am?  That's  the  way  we  spent 
our  time  when  we  were  n't  playing  tennis  ; "  and  Tom 
pulled  a  handful  of  pictures  from  his  pocket,  displaying 
several  in  which  he  was  conspicuous,  either  holding  a 
sun-umbrella  over  a  very  pretty  young  lady  on  the  rocks, 
reposing  at  her  feet  in  the  grass,  or  perched  on  a  piazza 
railing  with  other  couples  in  seaside  costumes  and 
effective  attitudes. 

"  This  is  she  of  course? "  asked  Mrs.  Jo,  pointing  to 
the  much-ruffled  damsel  with  the  jaunty  hat,  coquettish 
shoes,  and  racquet  in  her  hand. 

"  That's  Dora.  Isn't  she  lovely?"  cried  Tom,  for- 
getting his  tribulations  for  a  moment  and  speaking  with 
lover-like  ardor. 


172  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  Very  nice  little  person  to  look  at.  Hope  she  is  not 
a  Dickens  Dora?     That  curly  crop  looks  like  it." 

"  Not  a  bit ;  she  's  very  smart ;  can  keep  house,  and 
sew,  and  do  lots  of  things,  I  assure  you,  ma'am.  All 
the  girls  like  her,  and  she 's  sweet-tempered  and  jolly, 
and  sings  like  a  bird,  and  dances  beautifully,  and  loves 
books.  Thinks  yours  are  splendid,  and  made  me  talk 
about  you  no  end." 

"  That  last  sentence  is  to  flatter  me  and  win  nry  help 
to  get  you  out  of  the  scrape.  Tell  me  first  how  you 
got  in  ; "  and  Mrs.  Jo  settled  herself  to  listen  with  in- 
terest, never  tired  of  boys'  affairs. 

Tom  gave  his  head  a  rousing  rub  all  over  to  clear  his 
wits,  and  plunged  into  his  story  with  a  will. 

"Well,  we've  met  before,  but  I  didn't  know  she 
was  there.  Demi  wanted  to  see  a  fellow,  so  we  went, 
and  finding  it  nice  and  cool  rested  over  Sunday.  Found 
some  pleasant  people  and  went  out  rowing  ;  I  had  Dora, 
and  came  to  grief  on  a  confounded  rock.  She  could 
swim,  no  harm  done,  only  the  scare  and  the  spoilt 
gown.  She  took  it  well,  and  we  got  friendly  at  once,  — 
could  n't  help  it,  scrambling  into  that  beast  of  a  boat 
while  the  rest  laughed  at  us.  Of  course  we  had  to  stay 
another  day  to  see  that  Dora  was  all  right.  Demi 
wanted  to.  Alice  Heath  is  down  there  and  two  other 
girls  from  our  college,  so  we  sort  of  lingered  along,  and 
Demi  kept  taking  pictures,  and  we  danced,  and  got  into 
a  tennis  tournament ;  and  that  was  as  good  exercise  as 
wheeling,  we  thought.  Fact  is,  tennis  is  a  dangerous 
game,  ma'am.  A  great  deal  of  courting  goes  on  in 
those  courts,  and  we  fellows  find  that  sort  of  '  serving ' 
mighty  agreeable,  don't  you  know?  " 


THE   WORM  TURNS.  173 

"  Not  much  tennis  in  my  day,  but  I  understand  per- 
fectly," said  Mrs.  Jo,  enjoying  it  all  as  much  as  Tom 
did. 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  hadn't  the  least  idea  of  being 
serious,"  he  continued  slowly,  as  if  this  part  of  his  tale 
was  hard  to  tell ;  "but  every  one  else  spooned,  so  I  did. 
Dora  seemed  to  like  it  and  expect  it,  and  of  course  I 
was  glad  to  be  agreeable.  She  thought  I  amounted  to 
something,  though  Nan  does  not,  and  it  was  pleasant 
to  be  appreciated  after  years  of  snubbing.  Yes,  it  was 
right  down  jolly  to  have  a  sweet  girl  smile  at  }'OU  all 
day,  and  blush  prettily  when  you  said  a  neat  thing  to 
her,  and  look  glad  when  you  came,  sorry  when  you 
left,  and  admire  all  you  did,  and  make  you  feel  like  a 
man  and  act  your  best.  That 's  the  sort  of  treatment 
a  fellow  enjo}Ts  and  ought  to  get  if  he  behaves  himself; 
not  frowns  and  cold  shoulders  year  in  and  year  out, 
and  made  to  look  like  a  fool  when  he  means  well,  and 
is  faithful,  and  has  loved  a  girl  ever  since  he  was  a 
boy.    No,  by  Jove,  it 's  not  fair,  and  I  won't  stand  it !  " 

Tom  waxed  warm  and  eloquent  as  he  thought  over 
his  wrongs,  and  bounced  up  to  march  about  the  room, 
wagging  his  head  and  trying  to  feel  aggrieved  as 
usual,  but  surprised  to  find  that  his  heart  did  not  ache 
a  bit. 

' '  I  would  n't.  Drop  the  old  fancy,  —  for  it  was  noth- 
ing more,  —  and  take  up  the  new  one,  if  it  is  genuine. 
But  how  came  you  to  propose,  Tom,  as  you  must  have 
done  to  be  engaged?"  asked  Mrs.  Jo,  impatient  for  the 
crisis  of  the  tale. 

"  Oh,  that  was  an  accident.  I  did  n't  mean  it  at  all ; 
the  donkey  did  it,  and  I  could  n't  get  out  of  the  scrape 


174  JO'S  BOYS. 

without  hurting  Dora's  feelings,  you  see,"  began  Tom, 
seeing  that  the  fatal  moment  had  come. 

"  So  there  were  two  donkeys  in  it,  were  there?  "  said 
Mrs.  Jo,  foreseeing  fun  of  some  sort. 

"Don't  laugh!  It  sounds  funny,  I  know;  but  it 
might  have  been  awful,"  answered  Tom,  darkly,  though 
a  twinkle  of  the  eye  showed  that  his  love  trials  did  not 
quite  blind  him  to  the  comic  side  of  the  adventure. 
"  The  girls  admired  our  new  wheels,  and  of  course  we 
liked  to  show  off.  Took  'em  to  ride,  and  had  larks 
generally.  Well,  one  day  Dora  was  on  behind,  and 
we  were  going  nicely  along  a  good  bit  of  road,  when 
a  ridiculous  old  donkey  got  right  across  the  way.  I 
thought  he'd  move,  but  he  didn't,  so  I  gave  him  a 
kick ;  he  kicked  back,  and  over  we  went  in  a  heap, 
donkey  and  all.  Such  a  mess  !  I  thought  only  of 
Dora,  and  she  had  hysterics ;  at  least,  she  laughed  till 
she  cried,  and  that  beast  brayed,  and  I  lost  my  head. 
Any  fellow  would,  with  a  poor  girl  gasping  in  the 
road,  and  he  wiping  her  tears  and  begging  pardon,  not 
knowing  whether  her  bones  were  broken  or  not.  I 
called  her  my  darling,  and  went  on  like  a  fool  in  my 
flurry,  till  she  grew  calmer,  and  said,  with  such  a  look, 
4 1  forgive  you,  Tom.  Pick  me  up,  and  let  us  go  on 
.again.' 

"  Was  n't  that  sweet  now,  after  I  'd  upset  her  for  the 
second  time  ?  It  touched  me  to  the  heart ;  and  I  said 
I  'd  like  to  go  on  forever  with  such  an  angel  to  steer 
for,  and  —  well,  I  don't  know  what  I  did  say ;  but  you 
might  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather  when  she 
put  her  arm  round  my  neck  and  whispered,  '  Tom, 
dear,  with  you  I  'm   not  afraid  of  any  lions  in   the 


THE    WORM  TURNS.  175 

path.*  She  might  have  said  donkeys;  but  she  was  in 
earnest,  and  she  spared  my  feelings.  Very  nice  of  the 
dear  girl ;  but  there  I  am  with  two  sweethearts  on  my 
hands,  and  in  a  deuce  of  a  scrape." 

Finding  it  impossible  to  contain  herself  another 
moment,  Mrs.  Jo  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  her 
cheeks  at  this  characteristic  episode  ;  and  after  one 
reproachful  look,  which  only  added  to  her  merriment, 
Tom  burst  into  a  jolly  roar  that  made  the  room  ring. 

"  Tommy  Bangs  !  Tommy  Bangs  !  who  but  yon  could 
ever  get  into  such  a  catastrophe  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Jo,  when 
she  recovered  her  breath. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  muddle  all  round,  and  won't  ever}7  one 
chaff  me  to  death  about  it  ?  I  shall  have  to  quit  old 
Plum  for  a  while,"  answered  Tom,  as  he  mopped  his 
face,  trying  to  realize  the  full  danger  of  his  position. 

"No,  indeed;  I'll  stand  by  you,  for  I  think  it  the 
best  joke  of  the  season.  But  tell  me  how  things  ended. 
Is  it  really  serious,  or  only  a  summer  flirtation?  I  don't 
approve  of  them,  but  boj-s  and  girls  will  play  with 
^dged  tools  and  cut  their  fingers." 

"  Well,  Dora  considers  herself  engaged,  and  wrote 
to  her  people  at  once.  I  couldn't  say  a  word  when 
she  took  it  all  in  solemn  earnest  and  seemed  so  happy. 
She 's  only  seventeen,  never  liked  any  one  before,  and 
is  sure  all  will  be  right ;  as  her  father  knows  mine,  and 
we  are  both  well  off.  I  was  so  staggered  that  I  said, 
4  Why,  you  can't  love  me  really  when  we  know  so  little 
of  one  another  ? '  But  she  answered  right  out  of  her 
tender  little  heart,  f  Yes,  I  do,  dearly,  Tom  ;  you  are  so 
gay  and  kind  and  honest,  I  couldn't  help  it.'  Now, 
after  that  what  could  I  do  but  go  ahead  and  make  her 


176  JO'S  BOYS. 

happy  while  I  staj^ed,  and  trust  to  luck  to  straighten 
the  snarl  out  afterward?" 

"  A  trul}-  Tomian  way  of  taking  things  easy.  I  hope 
you  told  3Tour  father  at  once." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  wrote  right  off  and  broke  it  to  him  in 
three  lines.  I  said,  '  Dear  Father,  I'm  engaged  to 
Dora  West,  and  I  hope  she  will  suit  the  family.  She 
suits  me  tip- top.  Yours  ever,  Tom.'  He  was  all  right, 
never  liked  Nan,  }Tou  know ;  but  Dora  will  suit  him 
down  to  the  ground."  And  Tom  looked  entirety  satis- 
fied with  his  own  tact  and  taste. 

"  What  did  Demi  say  to  this  rapid  and  funn}-  love- 
making?  Was  n't  he  scandalized?  "  asked  Mrs.  Jo,  try- 
ing not  to  laugh  again  as  she  thought  of  the  unromantic 
spectacle  of  donkey,  bicycle,  bo}T,  and  girl  all  in  the  dust 
together. 

"  Not  a  bit.  He  was  immensely  interested  and  very 
kind ;  talked  to  me  like  a  father ;  said  it  was  a  good 
thing  to  steady  a  fellow,  only  I  must  be  honest  with 
her  and  myself  and  not  trifle  a  moment.  Demi  is  a 
regular  Solomon,  especially  when  he  is  in  the  same 
boat,"  answered  Tom,  looking  wise. 

"You  don't  mean — ?"  gasped  Mrs.  Joe,  in  sudden 
alarm  at  the  bare  idea  of  more  love-affairs  just  yet. 

"  Yes,  I  do,  please  ma'am  ;  it 's  a  regular  sell  all  the 
way  through,  and  I  owe  Demi  one  for  taking  me  into 
temptation  blindfold.  He  said  he  went  to  Quitno  to 
see  Fred  Wallace,  but  he  never  saw  the  fellow.  How 
could  he,  when  Wallace  was  off  in  his  3'acht  all  the  time 
we  were  there?  Alice  was  the  real  attraction,  and  I  was 
left  to  my  fate,  while  they  went  maundering  round  with 
that  old    camera.     There  were  three  donkeys  in  this 


THE    WORM  TURNS.  177 

affair,  and  I  'm  not  the  worst  one,  though  I  shall  have 
to  bear  the  laugh.  Demi  will  look  innocent  and  sober, 
and  no  one  will  say  a  word  to  him." 

"  The  midsummer  madness  has  broken  out,  and  no 
one  knows  who  will  be  stricken  next.  Well,  leave 
Demi  to  his  mother,  and  let  us  see  what  you  are  going 
to  do,  Tom." 

"I  don't  know  exactly ;  it's  awkward  to  be  in  love 
with  two  girls  at  once.     What  do  you  advise? " 

"A  common-sense  view  of  the  case,  by  all  means. 
Dora  loves  you  and  thinks  you  love  her.  Nan  does 
not  care  for  you,  and  you  only  care  for  her  as  a  friend, 
though  you  have  tried  to  do  more.  It  is  my  opinion, 
Tom,  that  you  love  Dora,  or  are  on  the  way  to  it ;  for 
in  all  these  years  I  've  never  seen  you  look  or  speak 
about  Nan  as  you  do  about  Dora.  Opposition  has  made 
you  obstinately  cling  to  her  till  accident  has  shown  you 
a  more  attractive  girl.  Now,  I  think  you  had  better 
take  the  old  love  for  a  friend,  the  new  one  for  a  sweet- 
heart, and  in  due  time,  if  the  sentiment  is  genuine, 
marry  her." 

If  Mrs.  Jo  had  any  doubts  about  the  matter,  Tom's 
face  would  have  proved  the  truth  of  her  opinion ;  for 
his  eyes  shone,  his  lips  smiled,  and  in  spite  of  dust  and 
sunburn  a  new  expression  of  happiness  quite  glorified 
him  as  he  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  trying  to  un- 
derstand the  beautiful  miracle  which  real  love  works 
when  it  comes  to  a  young  man's  heart. 

"  The  fact  is  I  meant  to  make  Nan  jealous,  for  she 
knows  Dora,  and  I  was  sure  would  hear  of  our  doings. 
I  was  tired  of  being  walked  on,  and  I  thought  I  'd  try 
to  break  away  and  not  be  a  bore  and  a  laughing-stock 

12  » 


178  JO'S  BOYS. 

any  more,"  he  said  slowly,  as  if  it  relieved  him  to  pour 
out  his  doubts  and  woes  and  hopes  and  joys  to  this  old 
friend.  "  I  was  regularly  astonished  to  find  it  so  easy 
and  so  pleasant.  I  did  n't  mean  to  do  any  harm,  but 
drifted  along  beautifully,  and  told  Demi  to  mention 
things  in  his  letters  to  Daisy,  so  Nan  might  know. 
Then  I  forgot  Nan  altogether,  and  saw,  heard,  felt, 
cared  for  no  one  but  Dora,  till  the  donkey  —  bless  his 
old  heart !  —  pitched  her  into  m}T  arms  and  I  found  she 
loved  me.  Upon  my  soul,  I  don't  see  why  she  should  ! 
I  'm  not  half  good  enough." 

"  Eveiy  honest  man  feels  that  when  an  innocent  girl 
puts  her  hand  in  his.  Make  3-ourself  worthy  of  her,  for 
she  is  n't  an  angel  but  a  woman  with  faults  of  her  own 
for  you  to  bear  and  forgive,  and  jtou  must  help  one  an- 
other," said  Mrs.  Jo,  trying  to  realize  that  this  sober 
youth  was  her  scapegrace  Tommy. 

' '  What  troubles  me  is  that  I  did  n't  mean  it  when  I 
began,  and  was  going  to  use  the  dear  girl  as  an  instru- 
ment of  torture  for  Nan.  It  was  n't  right,  and  I  don't 
deserve  to  be  so  happy.  If  all  my  scrapes  ended  as 
well  as  this,  what  a  state  of  bliss  I  should  be  in ! "  and 
Tom  beamed  again  at  the  rapturous  prospect. 

"My  dear  boy,  it  is  not  a  scrape,  but  a  very  sweet 
experience  suddenly  dawning  upon  you,"  answered  Mrs. 
Jo,  speaking  very  soberly  ;  for  she  saw  he  was  in  earnest. 
"Enjoy  it  wisely  and  be  worth}7  of  it,  for  it  is  a  serious 
thing  to  accept  a  girl's  love  and  trust,  and  let  her  look 
up  to  you  for  tenderness  and  truth  in  return.  Don't 
let  little  Dora  look  in  vain,  but  be  a  man  in  all  things 
for  her  sake,  and  make  this  affection  a  blessing  to  you 
both." 


THE   WORM  TURNS.  179 

"I'll  try.  Yes,  I  do  love  her,  only  I  can't  believe  it 
just  yet.  Wish  you  knew  her.  Dear  little  soul,  I  long 
to  see  her  already !  She  cried  when  we  parted  last 
night,  and  I  hated  to  go."  Tom's  hand  went  to  his 
cheek  as  if  he  still  felt  the  rosy  little  seal  Dora  had  set 
upon  his  promise  not  to  forget  her,  and  for  the  first  time 
in  his  happy-go-lucky  life  Tommy  Bangs  understood  the 
difference  between  sentiment  and  sentimentality.  The 
feeling  recalled  Nan,  for  he  had  never  known  that  ten- 
der thrill  when  thinking  of  her,  and  the  old  friendship 
eemed  rather  a  prosaic  affair  beside  this  delightful 
mingling  of  romance,  surprise,  love,  and  fun. 

"  I  declare,  I  feel  as  if  a  weight  was  off  me,  but  what 
the  dickens  will  Nan  say  when  she  knows  it ! "  he  ex- 
claimed with  a  chuckle. 

"  Knows  what?"  asked  a  clear  voice  that  made  both 
start  and  turn,  for  there  was  Nan  calmly  surveying 
them  from  the  doorway. 

Anxious  to  put  Tom  out  of  suspense  and  to  see  how 
Nan  would  take  the  news,  Mrs.  Jo  answered  quickly,  — 

"  Tom's  engagement  to  Dora  West." 

"Really?"  and  Nan  looked  so  surprised  that  Mrs. 
Jo  was  afraid  she  might  be  fonder  of  her  old  playmate 
than  she  knew  ;  but  her  next  words  set  the  fear  at  rest, 
and  made  everything  comfortable  and  merry  at  once. 

"  I  knew  my  prescription  would  work  wonders  if  he 
only  took  it  long  enough.  Dear  old  Tom,  I  'm  so  glad. 
Bless  you  !  bless  you  !  "  And  she  shook  both  his  hands 
with  hearty  affection. 

"It  was  an  accident,  Nan.  I  didn't  mean  to,  but 
I'm  always  getting  into  messes,  and  I  couldn't  seem  to 
get  out  of  this  in  any  other  way.     Mother  Bhaer  will 


180  JO'S  BOYS. 

tell  you  about  it.  I  must  go  and  make  myself  tidy. 
Going  to  tea  with  Demi.     See  you  later." 

Stammering,  blushing,  and  looking  both  sheepish  and 
gratified,  Tom  suddenly  bolted,  leaving  the  elder  lady 
to  enlighten  the  younger  at  length,  and  have  another 
laugh  over  this  new  sort  of  courtship,  which  might  well 
be  called  accidental.  Nan  was  deeply  interested,  for 
she  knew  Dora,  thought  her  a  nice  little  thing,  and 
predicted  that  in  time  she  would  make  Tom  an  excellent 
wife,  since  she  admired  and  "appreciated"  him  so 
much. 

"  I  shall  miss  him  of  course,  but  it  will  be  a  relief  to 
me  and  better  for  him  ;  dangling  is  so  bad  for  a  bo3r. 
Now  he  will  go  into  business  with  his  father  and  do 
well,  and  every  one  be  happ3%  I  shall  give  Dora  an 
elegant  family  medicine-chest  for  a  wedding-present, 
and  teach  her  how  to  use  it.  Tom  can't  be  trusted,  and 
is  no  more  fit  for  the  profession  than  Silas." 

The  latter  part  of  this  speech  relieved  Mrs.  Jo's  mind, 
for  Nan  had  looked  about  her  as  if  she  had  lost  some- 
thing valuable  when  she  began ;  but  the  medicine-chest 
seemed  to  cheer  her,  and  the  thought  of  Tom  in  a  safe 
profession  was  evidently  a  great  comfort. 

"  The  worm  has  turned  at  last,  Nan,  and  your  bond- 
man is  free.  Let  him  go,  and  give  your  whole  mind  to 
your  work  ;  for  you  are  fitted  for  the  profession,  and  will 
be  an  honor  to  it  by  and  bj',"  she  said,  approvingly. 

"  I  hope  so.  That  reminds  me  —  measles  are  in  the 
village,  and  3^011  had  better  tell  the  girls  not  to  call 
where  there  are  children.  It  would  be  bad  to  have  a 
run  of  them  just  as  term  begins.  Now  I  'm  off  to  Dais3\ 
Wonder  what   she  will   say  to  Tom.     Is  n't  he   great 


THE   WORM  TURNS.  181 

fun?  "  And  Nau  departed,  laughing  over  the  joke  with 
such  genuine  satisfaction  that  it  was  evident  no  sen- 
timental regrets  disturbed  her  "  maiden  meditation, 
fancy-free." 

"  I  shall  have  my  eye  on  Demi,  but  won't  say  a  word. 
Meg  likes  to  manage  her  children  in  her  own  way,  and 
a  very  good  way  it  is.  But  the  dear  Pelican  will  be 
somewhat  ruffled  if  her  boy  has  caught  the  epidemic 
which  seems  to  have  broken  out  among  us  this 
summer." 

Mrs.  Jo  did  not  mean  the  measles,  but  that  more 
serious  malady  called  love,  which  is  apt  to  ravage  com- 
munities, spring  and  autumn,  when  winter  gaj-ety  and 
summer  idleness  produce  whole  bouquets  of  engage- 
ments, and  set  young  people  to  pairing  off  like  the 
birds.  Franz  began  it,  Nat  was  a  chronic  and  Tom  a 
sudden  case  ;  Demi  seemed  to  have  the  symptoms  ;  and 
worst  of  all,  her  own  Ted  had  only  the  da}T  before  calm- 
ly said  to  her,  "  Mum,  I  think  I  should  be  happier  if 
I  had  a  sweetheart,  like  the  other  bo}Ts."  If  her  cher- 
ished son  had  asked  her  for  djmamite  to  play  with,  she 
would  hardly  have  been  more  startled,  or  have  more 
decidedly  refused  the  absurd  request. 

"  Well,  Barr}r  Morgan  said  I  ought  to  have  one  and 
offered  to  pick  me  out  a  nice  one  among  our  set.  I 
asked  Josie  first,  and  she  hooted  at  the  idea,  so  I  thought 
I  'd  let  Barry  look  round.  You  sa}r  it  steadies  a  fellow, 
and  I  want  to  be  stead}7,"  explained  Ted  in  a  serious 
tone,  which  would  have  convulsed  his  parent  at  any 
other  time. 

i '  Good  lack !  What  are  we  coming  to  in  this  fast 
age  when  babes  and  boys   make   such   demands  and 


182  JO'S  BOYS. 

want  to  play  with  one  of  the  most  sacred  things  in 
life?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Jo,  and  having  in  a  few  words 
set  the  matter  in  its  true  light,  sent  her  son  away  to 
wTholesome  base-ball  and  Octoo  for  a  safe  sweetheart. 

Now,  here  was  Tom's  bomb-shell  to  explode  in  their 
midst,  carrying  wide-spread  destruction,  perhaps ;  for 
though  one  swallow  does  not  make  a  summer,  one  en- 
gagement is  apt  to  make  several,  and  her  bo}Ts  were, 
most  of  them,  at  the  inflammable  age  when  a  spark 
ignites  the  flame,  which  soon  flickers  and  dies  out,  or 
burns  warm  and  clear  for  life.  Nothing  could  be  done 
about  it  but  to  help  them  make  wise  choices,  and  be 
wortlry  of  good  mates.  But  of  all  the  lessons  Mrs.  Jo 
had  tried  to  teach  her  boys,  this  great  one  was  the 
hardest ;  for  love  is  apt  to  make  lunatics  of  even  saints 
and  sages,  so  young  people  cannot  be  expected  to  es- 
cape the  delusions,  disappointments,  and  mistakes,  as 
well  as  the  delights,  of  this  sweet  madness. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  inevitable,  since  we  live  in  America, 
so  I  won't  borrow  trouble,  but  hope  that  some  of  the 
new  ideas  of  education  will  produce  a  few  heart}',  happy, 
capable,  and  intelligent  girls  for  my  lads.  Lucky  for 
me  that  I  have  n't  the  whole  twelve  on  my  hands.  I 
should  lose  my  wits  if  I  had,  for  I  foresee  complica- 
tions and  troubles  ahead  worse  than  Tom's  boats, 
bicycles,  donkeys,  and  Doras,"  meditated  Mrs,  Jo,  as 
6he  went  back  to  her  neglected  proof-sheets. 

Tom  was  quite  satisfied  with  the  tremendous  effect 
his  engagement  produced  in  the  little  community  at 
Plumfield.  "It  was  paralyzing,"  as  Demi  said;  and 
astonishment  left  most  of  Tom's  mates  little  breath  for 
chaff.     That  he,  the  faithful  one,  should  turn  from  the 


THE    WORM  TURNS.  183 

idol  to  strange  goddesses,  was  a  shock  to  the  romantic 
and  a  warning  to  the  susceptible.  It  was  comical  to 
see  the  airs  our  Thomas  put  on ;  for  the  most  ludi- 
crous parts  of  the  affair  were  kindly  buried  in  oblivion 
by  the  few  who  knew  them,  and  Tom  burst  forth  as 
a  full-blown  hero  who  had  rescued  the  maiden  from  a 
watery  grave,  and  won  her  gratitude  and  love  by  his 
daring  deed.  Dora  kept  the  secret,  and  enjoyed  the 
fun  when  she  came  to  see  Mother  Bhaer  and  pay  her 
respects  to  the  family  generally.  Every  one  liked  her 
at  once,  for  she  was  a  gay  and  winning  little  soul ; 
fresh,  frank,  and  so  happ}',  it  was  beautiful  to  see  her 
innocent  pride  in  Tom,  who  was  a  new  boy,  or  man 
rather ;  for  with  this  change  in  his  life  a  great  change 
took  place  in  him.  Jolly  he  would  always  be,  and  im- 
pulsive, but  he  tried  to  become  all  that  Dora  believed 
him,  and  his  best  side  came  uppermost  for  every-day 
wear.  It  was  surprising  to  see  how  many  good  traits 
Tom  had ;  and  his  efforts  to  preserve  the  manly  dignitj' 
becoming  to  his  proud  position  as  an  engaged  man 
was  very  comical.  So  was  the  entire  change  from  his 
former  abasement  and  devotion  to  Nan  to  a  somewhat 
lordly  air  with  his  little  betrothed ;  for  Dora  made  an 
idol  of  him,  and  resented  the  idea  of  a  fault  or  a  flaw  in 
her  Tom.  This  new  state  of  things  suited  both,  and 
the  once  blighted  being  bloomed  finely  in  the  warm  at- 
mosphere of  appreciation,  love,  and  confidence.  He 
was  very  fond  of  the  dear  girl,  but  meant  to  be  a  slave 
no  longer,  and  enjoyed  his  freedom  immensely,  quite 
unconscious  that  the  great  tyrant  of  the  world  had  got 
hold  of  him  for  life. 

To  his  father's  satisfaction  he  gave  up  his  medical 


184  JO'S  BOYS. 

studies,  and  prepared  to  go  into  business  with  the  old 
gentleman,  who  was  a  flourishing  merchant,  ready  now 
to  make  the  way  smooth  and  smile  upon  his  marriage 
with  Mr.  West's  well-endowed  daughter.  The  only 
thorn  in  Tom's  bed  of  roses  was  Nan's  placid  interest 
in  his  affairs,  and  evident  relief  at  his  disloyalty.  He 
did  not  want  her  to  suffer,  but  a  decent  amount  of  re- 
gret at  the  loss  of  such  a  lover  would  have  gratified 
him  ;  a  slight  melancholy,  a  word  of  reproach,  a  glance 
of  envy  as  he  passed  with  adoring  Dora  on  his  arm, 
seemed  but  the  fitting  tribute  to  such  years  of  faithful 
service  and  sincere  affection.  But  Nan  regarded  him 
with  a  maternal  sort  of  air  that  nettled  him  very  much, 
and  patted  Dora's  curly  head  with  a  worldly-wise  air 
worthy  of  the  withered  spinster,  Julia  Mills,  in  "David 
Copperfield." 

It  took  some  time  to  get  the  old  and  the  new  emo- 
tions comfortably  adjusted,  but  Mrs.  Jo  helped  him, 
and  Mr.  Laurie  gave  him  some  wise  advice  upon  the 
astonishing  gymnastic  feats  the  human  heart  can  per- 
form, and  be  all  the  better  for  it  if  it  only  held  fast  to  the 
balancing-pole  of  truth  and  common-sense.  At  last  our 
Tommy  got  his  bearings,  and  as  autumn  came  on  Plum- 
field  saw  but  little  of  him  ;  for  his  new  lodestar  was 
in  the  city,  and  business  kept  him  hard  at  work.  He 
was  evidently  in  his  right  place  now,  and  soon  throve 
finery,  to  his  father's  great  contentment ;  for  his  jovial 
presence  pervaded  the  once  quiet  office  like  a  gale  of 
fresh  wind,  and  his  lively  wits  found  managing  men 
and  affairs  much  more  congenial  employment  than 
studying  disease,  or  playing  unseemly  pranks  with 
skeletons. 


THE   WORM  TURNS.  185 

Here  we  will  leave  him  for  a  time  and  turn  to  the 
more  serious  adventures  of  his  mates,  though  this  en- 
gagement, so  merrily  made,  was  the  anchor  which 
kept  our  mercurial  Tom  happy,  and  ^nade  a  man  of 
him. 


CHAPTER  X. 
DEMI    SETTLES. 

«'  IV  /TOTHER,  can  I  have  a  little  serious  conversa- 

-LV1.  tion  with  you?"  asked  Demi  one  evening,  as 
they  sat  together  enjo}Ting  the  first  fire  of  the  season, 
while  Daisy  wrote  letters  upstairs  and  Josie  was  study- 
ing in  the  little  librae  close  b}\ 

"Certainly,  dear.  No  bad  news,  I  hope?"  and 
Mrs.  Meg  looked  up  from  her  sewing  with  a  mixture  of 
pleasure  and  anxiety  in  her  motherly  face ;  for  she 
dearly  loved  a  good  talk  with  her  son,  and  knew  that 
he  always  had  something  worth  telling. 

"  It  will  be  good  news  to  you,  I  think,"  answered 
Demi,  smiling  as  he  threw  away  his  paper  and  went  to 
sit  beside  her  on  the  little  sofa  which  just  held  two. 

"  Let  me  hear  it,  then,  at  once." 

"  I  know  3rou  don't  like  the  reporting,  and  will  be 
glad  to  hear  that  I  have  given  it  up." 

"  I  am  ver}T  giad  !  It  is  too  uncertain  a  business, 
and  there  is  no  prospect  of  getting  on  for  a  long  time. 
I  want  you  settled  in  some  good  place  where  you  can 
stay,  and  in  time  make  money.  I  wish  you  liked  a 
profession  ;  but  as  you  don't,  any  clean,  well-established 
business  will  do." 


DEMI  SETTLES.  187 

"  What  do  you  say  to  a  railroad  office?  " 

"  I  don't  like  it.  A  noisy,  hurried  kind  of  place,  I 
know,  with  all  sorts  of  rough  men  about.  I  hope  it 
is  n't  that,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  could  have  it ;  but  does  book-keeping  in  a  whole- 
sale leather  business  please  you  better  ?  " 

"  No  ;  you  '11  get  round-shouldered  writing  at  a  tall 
desk ;  and  they  say,  once  a  book-keeper  always  a  book- 
keeper." 

' '  How  does  a  travelling  agent  suit  }'our  views  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all;  with  all  those  dreadful  accidents,  and 
the  exposure  and  bad  food  as  you  go  from  place  to 
place,  3tou  are  sure  to  get  killed  or  lose  your  health." 

"  I  could  be  private  secretary  to  a  literary  man  ;  but 
the  salaiy  is  small,  and  may  end  an}7  time." 

"  That  would  be  better,  and  more  what  I  want.  It 
is  n't  that  I  object  to  honest  work  of  any  kind  ;  but  I 
don't  want  my  son  to  spend  his  best  years  grubbing  for 
a  little  money  in  a  dark  office,  or  be  knocked  about  in 
a  rough-and-tumble  scramble  to  get  on.  I  want  to  see 
you  in  some  business  where  your  tastes  and  talents  can 
be  developed  and  made  useful ;  where  you  can  go  on 
rising,  and  in  time  put  in  your  little  fortune  and  be  a 
partner  ;  so  that  tyour  years  of  apprenticeship  will  not 
be  wasted,  but  fit  you  to  take  your  place  among  the 
honorable  men  who  make  their  lives  and  work  useful 
and  respected.  I  talked  it  all  over  with  your  dear 
father  when  you  were  a  child ;  and  if  he  had  lived  he 
would  have  shown  you  what  I  mean,  and  helped  you  to 
be  what  he  was." 

Mrs.  Meg  wiped  away  a  quiet  tear  as  she  spoke  ;  for 
the  memory  of  her  husband  was  a  very  tender  one,  and 


188  JO'S  BOYS. 

the  education  of  his  children  had  been  a  sacred  task  to 
which  she  gave  all  her  heart  and  life,  and  so  far  had 
done  wonderfully  well,  —  as  her  good  son  and  loving 
daughters  tried  to  prove.  Demi's  arm  was  round  her 
now,  as  he  said,  in  a  voice  so  like  his  father's  that  it 
was  the  sweetest  music  to  her  ear,  — 

"Mother  dear,  I  think  I  have  got  just  what  you 
want  for  me  ;  and  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  I  don't  be- 
come the  man  }tou  hope  to  see  me.  Let  me  tell  you  all 
about  it.  I  did  n't  say  anything  till  it  was  sure,  be- 
cause it  would  only  worry  j^ou ;  but  Aunt  Jo  and  I 
have  been  on  the  look-out  for  it  some  time,  and  now  it 
has  come.  You  know  her  publisher,  Mr.  Tiber,  is  one 
of  the  most  successful  men  in  the  business  ;  also  gener- 
ous, kind,  and  the  soul  of  honor,  —  as  his  treatment  of 
Aunty  proves.  Well,  I  've  rather  hankered  for  that 
place  ;  for  I  love  books,  and  as  I  can't  make  them  I  'd 
like  to  publish  them.  That  needs  some  literary  taste 
and  judgment,  it  brings  you  in  contact  with  fine  people, 
and  is  an  education  in  itself.  Whenever  I  go  into  that 
large,  handsome  room  to  see  Mr.  Tiber  for  Aunt  Jo,  I 
alwa}Ts  want  to  stay  ;  for  it 's  lined  with  books  and  pic- 
tures, famous  men  and  women  come  and  go,  and  Mr. 
Tiber  sits  at  his  desk  like  a  sort  of  king,  receiving  his 
subjects ;  for  the  greatest  authors  are  humble  to  him, 
and  wait  his  Yes  or  No  with  anxiety.  Of  course  I  've 
nothing  to  do  with  all  that,  and  may  never  have  ;  but 
I  like  to  see  it,  and  the  atmosphere  is  so  different  from 
the  dark  offices  and  hurly-burly  of  man}-  other  trades, 
where  nothing  but  money  is  talked  about,  that  it  seems 
another  world ;  and  I  feel  at  home  in  it.  Yes,  I  'd 
rather  beat  the  door-mats  and  make  fires  there  than  be 


DEMI  SETTLES.  189 

head-clerk  in  the  great  hide  and  leather  store  at  a  big 
salary." 

Here  Demi  paused  for  breath  ;  and  Mrs.  Meg,  whose 
face  had  been  growing  brighter  and  brighter,  exclaimed 
eagerly,  — 

"  Just  what  I  should  like!  Hare  you  got  it?  Oh, 
my  dear  bo}T !  your  fortune  is  made  if  }tou  go  to  that 
well-established  and  nourishing  place,  with  those  good 
men  to  help  you  along !  " 

"  I  think  I  have,  but  we  must  n't  be  too  sure  of  any- 
thing yet.  I  may  not  suit ;  I  'm  only  on  trial,  and 
must  begin  at  the  beginning  and  work  my  way  up 
faithfully.  Mr.  Tiber  was  veiy  kind,  and  will  push  me 
on  as  fast  as  is  fair  to  the  other  fellows,  and  as  I  prove 
myself  fit  to  go  up.  I'm  to  begin  the  first  of  next 
month  in  the  book-room,  filling  orders  ;  and  I  go  round 
and  get  orders,  and  do  various  other  things  of  the  sort. 
I  like  it.  I  am  read}"  to  do  anything  about  books,  if  it 's 
only  to  dust  them,"  laughed  Demi,  well  pleased  with 
his  prospects  ;  for,  after  tr}'ing  various  things,  he  seemed 
at  last  to  have  found  the  sort  of  work  he  liked,  and  a 
prospect  that  was  verj7  inviting  to  him. 

"  You  inherit  that  love  of  books  from  grandpa ;  he 
can't  live  without  them.  I  'm  glad  of  it.  Tastes  of 
that  kind  show  a  refined  nature,  and  are  both  a  com- 
fort and  a  help  all  one's  life.  I  am  truly  glad  and 
grateful,  John,  that  at  last  you  want  to  settle,  and  have 
got  such  an  entirely  satisfactoiy  place.  Most  boys  be- 
gin much  earlier  ;  but  I  don't  believe  in  sending  them 
out  to  face  the  world  so  young,  just  when  body  and 
soul  need  home  care  and  watchfulness.  Now  you  are 
a  man,  and  must  begin  your  life  for  yourself.     Do  your 


190  JO'S  BOYS. 

best,   and  be  as   honest,  useful,  and   happy  as  your 
father,  and  I  won't  care  about  making  a  fortune." 

"I'll  tr}r,  mother.  Could  n't  have  a  better  chance  ; 
for  Tiber  &  Co.  treat  their  people  like  gentlemen,  and 
pay  generously  for  faithful  work.  Things  are  done  in 
a  business-like  way  there,  and  that  suits  me.  I  hate 
promises  that  are  not  kept,  and  shiftless  or  tyrannical 
wa}Ts  an}T where.  Mr.  Tiber  said,  '  This  is  only  to 
teach  you  the  ropes,  Brooke  ;  I  shall  have  other  work 
for  you  by  and  b}\'  Aunty  told  him  I  had  done  book 
notices,  and  had  rather  a  fancy  for  literature ;  so 
though  I  can't  produce  any  '  works  of  Shakespeare,'  as 
she  says,  I  ma}T  get  up  some  little  things  later.  If  I 
don't,  I  think  it  a  very  honorable  and  noble  profession 
to  select  and  give  good  books  to  the  world ;  and  I  'm 
satisfied  to  be  a  humble  helper  in  the  work." 

"I'm  glad  you  feel  so.  It  adds  so  much  to  one's 
happiness  to  love  the  task  one  does.  I  used  to  hate 
teaching  ;  but  housekeeping  for  nry  own  family  was  al- 
wa3Ts  sweet,  though  much  harder  in  man}'  wajs.  Is  n't 
Aunt  Jo  pleased  about  all  this  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Meg,  al- 
readj*  seeing  in  her  mind's  e}Te  a  splendid  sign  with 
"Tiber,  Brooke,  &  Co.  "  over  the  door  of  a  famous 
publishing  house. 

' '  So  pleased  that  I  could  hardly  keep  her  from  letting 
the  cat  out  of  the  bag  too  soon.  I've  had  so  many 
plans,  and  disappointed  you  so  often,  I  wanted  to  be 
verjT  sure  this  time.  I  had  to  bribe  Rob  and  Ted  to 
keep  her  at  home  to-night  till  I  'd  told  nry  news,  she 
was  so  eager  to  rush  down  and  tell  you  herself.  The 
castles  that  dear  woman  has  built  for  me  would  fill  all 
Spain,  and  have  kept  us  jolly  while  we  waited  to  know 


DEMI  SETTLES.  191 

our  fate.  Mr.  Tiber  does  n't  do  things  in  a  hurry  ;  but 
when  he  makes  up  his  mind,  you  are  all  right ;  and  I 
feel  that  I  am  fairly  launched." 

"  Bless  you,  dear,  I  hope  so  !  It  is  a  happy  day  for 
me,  because  I  've  been  so  anxious  lest,  with  all  my 
care,  I  had  been  too  easy  and  indulgent,  and  my  boy, 
with  his  many  good  gifts,  might  fritter  his  time  away 
in  harmless  but  unsatisfactory  things.  Now  I  am  at 
ease  about  you.  If  only  Daisy  can  be  happy,  and 
Josie  give  up  her  dream,  I  shall  be  quite  contented." 

Demi  let  his  mother  enjoy  herself  for  a  few  minutes, 
while  he  smiled  over  a  certain  little  dream  of  his  own, 
not  read}7  yet  for  the  telling ;  then  he  said,  in  the 
paternal  tone  which  he  unconsciously  used  when  speak- 
ing of  his  sisters,  — 

"  I  '11  see  to  the  girls  ;  but  I  begin  to  think  grandpa 
is  right  in  saying  we  must  each  be  what  God  and  nature 
make  us.  We  can't  change  it  much, — only  help  to 
develop  the  good  and  control  the  bad  elements  in  us. 
I  have  fumbled  my  wa}*  into  my  right  place  at  last,  I 
hope.  Let  Daisy  be  happy  in  her  wa}T,  since  it  is  a 
good  and  womanly  one.  If  Nat  comes  home  all  right, 
I  'd  say,  '  Bless  you,  my  children,'  and  give  them  a 
nest  of  their  own.  Then  jtou  and  I  will  help  little  Jo 
to  find  out  if  it  is  to  be  '  All  the  world  's  a  stage ' 
or  '  Home,  sweet  home,'  for  her." 

"  I  suppose  we  must,  John  ;  but  I  can't  help  making 
plans,  and  hoping  they  will  come  to  pass.  I  see  that 
Daisy  is  bound  up  in  Nat ;  and  if  he  is  worthy  of  her, 
I  shall  let  them  be  happy  in  their  own  way,  as  my 
parents  let  me.  But  Josie  will  be  a  trial,  I  foresee ; 
and  much  as  I  love  the  stage,  and  alwaj's  did,  I  don't 


192  JO'S  BOYS. 

see  how  I  can  ever  let  my  little  girl  be  an  actress, 
though  she  certainly  has  great  talent  for  it." 

''Whose  fault  is  that?"  asked  Demi,  smiling,  as  he 
remembered  his  mother's  early  triumphs  and  unquench- 
able interest  in  the  dramatic  efforts  of  the  young  people 
round  her. 

"  Mine,  I  know.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  when  I 
acted  '  Babes  in  the  Wood '  with  you  and  Daisy  before 
3Tou  could  speak,  and  taught  Josie  to  declaim  '  Mother 
Goose '  in  her  cradle.  Ah,  me  !  the  tastes  of  the  mother 
come  out  in  her  children,  and  she  must  atone  for  them 
b}T  letting  them  have  their  own  way,  I  suppose."  And 
Mrs.  Meg  laughed,  even  while  she  shook  her  head  over 
the  undeniable  fact  that  the  Marches  were  a  theatrical 
family. 

"  Why  not  have  a  great  actress  of  our  name,  as  well 
as  an  authoress,  a  minister,  and  an  eminent  publisher? 
We  don't  choose  our  talents  ;  but  we  need  n't  hide  them 
in  a  napkin  because  they  are  not  just  what  we  want. 
I  sa}T,  let  Jo  have  her  way,  and  do  what  she  can.  Here 
am  I  to  take  care  of  her ;  and  you  can't  deny  you  'd 
enjo}'  fixing  her  furbelows,  and  seeing  her  shine  before 
the  footlights,  where  you  used  to  long  to  be.  Come, 
mother,  better  face  the  music  and  march  gayly,  since 
your  wilful  children  will  '  gang  their  ain  gait.' " 

"  I  don't  see  but  I  must,  and  '  leave  the  consequences 
to  the  Lord/  as  Marmee  used  to  say  when  she  had  to 
decide,  and  only  saw  a  step  of  the  road.  I  should  en- 
joy it  immensely,  if  I  could  only  feel  that  the  life  would 
not  hurt  my  girl,  and  leave  her  unsatisfied  when  it  was 
too  late  to  change ;  for  nothing  is  harder  to  give 
up  than  the  excitements  of  that  profession.     I  know 


DEMI  SETTLES.  1^3 

something  of  it ;  and  if  your  blessed  father  had  not 
come  along,  I  'm  afraid  I  should  have  been  an  ac- 
tress, in  spite  of  Aunt  March  and  all  our  honored 
ancestors." 

"  Let  Josie  add  new  honor  to  the  name,  and  work 
out  the  family  talent  in  its  proper  place.  I'll  play 
dragon  to  her*,  and  you  play  nurse,  and  no  harm  can 
come  to  our  little  Juliet,  no  matter  how  many  Romeos 
spoon  under  her  balcony.  Really,  ma'am,  opposition 
comes  badly  from  an  old  lad}T  who  is  going  to  wring 
the  hearts  of  our  audience  in  the  heroine's  part  in 
Aunty's  play  next  Christmas.  It 's  the  most  pathetic 
thing  I  ever  saw,  mother ;  and  I  'm  sorry  }tou  did  n't 
become  an  actress,  though  we  should  be  nowhere  if  you 
had/' 

Demi  was  on  his  legs  now,  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
in  the  lordly  attitude  men  like  to  assume  when  things 
go  well  with  them,  or  they  want  to  lay  down  the  law  on 
any  subject. 

Mrs.  Meg  actually  blushed  at  her  son's  hearty  praise5 
and  could  not  den}^  that  the  sound  of  applause  was  as 
sweet  now  as  when  she  played  the  "Witch's  Curse" 
and  "  The  Moorish  Maiden's  Vow"  long  years  ago. 

"  It 's  perfectly  absurd  for  me  to  do  it,  but  I  couid  n't 
resist  when  Jo  and  Laurie  made  the  part  for  me,  and 
you  children  were  to  act  in  it.  The  minute  I  get  on  the 
okl  mother's  dress  I  forget  myself  and  feel  the  same 
thrill  at  the  sound  of  the  bell  that  I  used  to  feel  when 
we  got  up  plays  in  the  garret.  If  Daisy  would  only 
take  the  daughter's  part  it  would  be  so  complete ; 
for  with  you  and  Josie  I  am  hardly  acting,  it  is  all 
so  real." 

13 


194  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  Especially  the  hospital  scene,  where  you  find  the 
wounded  son.  Why,  mother,  do  you  know  when  we 
did  that  at  last  rehearsal  my  face  was  wet  with  real 
tears  as  you  cried  over  me.  It  will  bring  down  the 
house ;  but  don't  forget  to  wipe  'em  off,  or  I  shall 
sneeze,"  said  Demi,  laughing  at  the  recollection  of  his 
mother's  hit. 

"  I  won't ;  but  it  almost  broke  my  heart  to  see  you 
so  pale  and  dreadful.  I  hope  there  will  never  be  an- 
other war  in  my  time,  for  I  should  have  to  let  you  go  ; 
and  I  never  want  to  live  through  the  same  experience 
we  had  with  father." 

"  Don't  j^ou  think  Alice  does  the  part  better  than 
Daisy  would  ?  Daisy  has  n't  a  bit  of  the  actress  in  her, 
and  Alice  puts  life  into  the  dullest  words  she  speaks. 
I  think  the  Marquise  is  just  perfect  in  our  piece,"  said 
Demi,  strolling  about  the  room  as  if  the  warmth  of  the 
fire  sent  a  sudden  color  to  his  face. 

"So  do  I.  She  is  a  dear  girl,  and  I'm  proud  and 
fond  of  her.     Where  is  she  to-night?" 

"  Pegging  awa}7  at  her  Greek,  I  suppose.  She  usu- 
ally is  in  the  evening.  More  's  the  pit}',"  added  Demi, 
in  a  low  tone,  as  he  stared  intently  at  the  book-case, 
though  he  could  n't  read  a  title. 

"  Now,  there  is  a  girl  after  my  own  heart.  Pretty, 
well-bred,  well-educated,  and  yet  domestic,  a  real  com- 
panion as  well  as  help-meet  for  some  good  and  intelli- 
gent man.     I  hope  she  will  find  one." 

"So  do  I,"  muttered  Demi. 

Mrs.  Meg  had  taken  up  her  work  again,  and  was 
surveying  a  half-finished  button-hole  with  so  much  in- 
terest that  her  son's  face  escaped  her  eye.     He  shed 


DEMI  SETTLES.  195 

a  beaming  smile  upon  the  rows  of  poets,  as  if  even  in 
their  glass  prison  they  could  sympathize  and  rejoice 
with  him  at  the  first  rosy  dawn  of  the  great  passion 
which  the}7  knew  so  well.  But  Demi  was  a  wise  youth, 
and  never  leaped  before  looking  carefully.  He  hardly 
knew  his  own  heart  yet,  and  was  contented  to  wait  till 
the  sentiment,  the  fluttering  of  whose  folded  wings  he 
began  to  feel,  should  escape  from  the  chrysalis  and  be 
ready  to  soar  away  in  the  sunshine  to  seek  and  claim 
its  lovely  mate.  He  had  said  nothing ;  but  the  brown 
eyes  were  eloquent,  and  there  was  an  unconscious  under- 
plot to  all  the  little  pla}-s  he  and  Alice  Heath  acted  so 
well  together.  She  was  busy  with  her  books,  bound 
to  graduate  with  high  honors,  and  he  was  trying  to  do 
the  same  in  that  larger  college  open  to  all,  and  where 
each  man  has  his  own  prize  to  win  or  lose.  Demi  had 
nothing  but  himself  to  offer  and,  being  a  modest  youth, 
considered  that  a  poor  gift  till  he  had  proved  his  power 
to  earn  his  living  and  the  right  to  take  a  woman's 
happiness  into  his  keeping. 

No  one  guessed  that  he  had  caught  the  fever  except 
sharp-eyed  Josie,  and  she,  having  a  wholesome  fear  of 
her  brother,  — who  could  be  rather  awful  when  she  went 
too  far,  —  wisely  contented  herself  with  watching  him 
like  a  little  cat,  ready  to  pounce  on  the  first  visible 
sign  of  weakness.  Demi  had  taken  to  playing  pen- 
sively upon  his  flute  after  he  was  in  his  room  for  the 
night,  making  this  melodious  friend  his  confidante,  and 
breathing  into  it  all  the  tender  hopes  and  fears  that 
filled  his  heart.  Mrs.  Meg,  absorbed  in  domestic  af- 
fairs, and  Daisy,  who  cared  for  no  music  but  Nat's 
violin,  paid   no   heed  to  these  chamber  concerts ;  but 


196  JO'S  BOYS. 

Josie  alwa}-s  murmured  to  herself,  with  a  naughty 
chuckle,  "  Dick  Swiveller  is  thinking  of  his  Soplry 
Wackles,"  and  bided  her  time  to  revenge  certain  wrongs 
inflicted  upon  her  by  Demi,  who  always  took  Daisy's 
side  when  she  tried  to  curb  the  spirits  of  her  unruly 
little  sister. 

This  evening  she  got  her  chance,  and  made  the  most 
of  it.  Mrs.  Meg  was  just  rounding  off  her  button-hole, 
and  Demi  still  strolling  restlessly  about  the  room, 
when  a  book  was  heard  to  slam  in  the  stud}',  followed 
by  an  audible  yawn  and  the  appearance  of  the  student 
looking  as  if  sleep  and  a  desire  for  mischief  were 
struggling  which  should  be  master. 

' '  I  heard  my  name  ;  have  }tou  been  saying  anything 
bad  about  me?"  she  demanded,  perching  on  the  arm 
of  an  easy-chair. 

Her  mother  told  the  good  news,  over  which  Josie 
duly  rejoiced,  and  Demi  received  her  congratula- 
tions with  a  benignant  air  which  made  her  feel  that 
too  much  satisfaction  was  not  good  for  him,  and 
incited  her  to  put  a  thorn  into  his  bed  of  roses  at 
once. 

"  I  caught  something  about  the  play  just  now, 
and  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I'm  going  to  introduce 
a  song  into  my  part  to  liven  it  up  a  bit.  How  would 
this  do?"  and  seating  herself  at  the  piano  she  be- 
gan to  sing  to  these  words  the  air  of  ' '  Kathleen 
Mavourneen :  "  — 

"  Sweetest  of  maidens,  oh,  how  can  I  tell 

The  love  that  transfigures  the  whole  earth  to  me  ? 
The  longing  that  causes  my  bosom  to  swell, 
When  I  dream  of  a  life  all  devoted  to  thee  ?  " 


DEMI  SETTLES,  197 

She  got  no  further,  for  Demi,  red  with  wrath,  made 
a  rush  at  her,  and  the  next  moment  a  very  agile  young 
person  was  seen  dodging  round  tables  and  chairs  with 
the  future  partner  of  Tiber  &  Co.  in  hot  pursuit.  "You 
monke}r,  how  dare  you  meddle  with  my  papers  ?  "  cried 
the  irate  poet,  making  futile  grabs  at  the  saucy  girl 
who  skipped  to  and  fro,  waving  a  bit  of  paper  tan^ 
talizingly  before  him. 

"  Did  n't ;  found  it  in  the  big  '  Die*  Serves  you  right 
if  you  leave  your  rubbish  about.  Don't  you  like  my 
song?     It's  very  pretty." 

"  I  '11  teach  you  one  that  you  won't  like  if  you  don't 
give  me  my  property." 

"  Come  and  get  it  if  you  can ;"  and  Josie  vanished 
into  the  study  to  have  out  her  squabble  in  peace,  for 
Mrs.  Meg  was  alread}^  saying,  — 

"Children,  children!  don't  quarrel." 

The  paper  was  in  the  fire  b}^  the  time  Demi  arrived, 
and  he  at  once  calmed  down,  seeing  that  the  bone  of 
contention  was  out  of  the  wa}\ 

"I'm  glad  it 's  burnt ;  I  don't  care  for  it,  only  some 
verses  I  was  trying  to  set  to  music  for  one  of  the  girls. 
But  I'll  trouble  you  to  let  my  papers  alone,  or  I  shall 
take  back  the  advice  I  gave  mother  to-night  about 
allowing  you  to  act  as  much  as  you  like." 

Josie  was  sobered  at  once  by  this  dire  threat,  and 
in  her  most  wheedling  tone  begged  to  know  what  he 
had  said.  By  way  of  heaping  coals  of  fire  on  her  head 
he  told  her,  and  this  diplomatic  performance  secured 
him  an  ally  on  the  spot. 

"You  dear  old  boy!  I'll  never  tease  you  again 
though  you  moon  and  spoon  both  day  and  night.     If 


198  JO'S  BOYS. 

you  stand  by  me,  I  '11  stand  b}'  you  and  never  say 
a  word.  See  here  !  I  've  got  a  note  for  }ou  from  Alice. 
Won't  that  be  a  peace-offering  and  soothe  your  little 
feelings  ?  " 

Demi's  eyes  sparkled  as  Josie  held  up  a  paper  cocked 
hat,  but  as  he  knew  what  was  probably  in  it,  he  took 
the  wind  out  Josie's  sails,  and  filled  her  with  blank 
astonishment  by  saying  carelessly,  — 

"  That's  nothing;  it's  only  to  say  whether  she  will 
go  to  the  concert  with  us  to-morrow  night.  You  can 
read  it  if  you  like." 

With  the  natural  perversity  of  her  sex  Josie  ceased 
to  be  curious  the  moment  she  was  told  to  read  it,  and 
meekly  handed  it  over ;  but  she  watched  Demi  as  he 
calmly  read  the  two  lines  it  contained  and  then  threw 
it  into  the  fire. 

"  Why,  Jack,  I  thought  3'ou 'd  treasure  every  scrap 
the  *  sweetest  maid '  touched.  Don't  you  care  for 
her?" 

"  Very  much  ;  we  all  do  ;  but '  mooning  and  spooning,' 
as  you  elegantly  express  it,  is  not  in  my  line.  M}r  dear 
little  girl,  your  plays  make  you  romantic,  and  because 
Alice  and  I  act  lovers  sometimes  you  take  it  into  your 
silly  head  that  we  are  really  so.  Don't  waste  time 
hunting  mare's  nests,  but  attend  to  your  own  affairs 
and  leave  me  to  mine.  I  forgive  }*ou,  but  don't  do 
it  again ;  it 's  bad  taste,  and  tragedjT  queens  don't 
romp." 

That  last  cut  finished  Josie ;  she  humbly  begged 
pardon  and  went  off  to  bed,  while  Demi  soon  followed, 
feeling  that  he  had  not  only  settled  himself  but  his  too 
inquisitive  little  sister  also.      But  if  he  had  seen  her 


DEMI  SETTLES.  199 

face  as  she  listened  to  the  soft  wailing  of  his  flute  he 
would  not  have  been  so  sure,  for  she  looked  as  cunning 
as  a  magpie  as  she  said,  with  a  scornful  sniff,  "  Pooh, 
you  can't  deceive  me ;  I  know  Dick  is  serenading 
Sophy  Wackles ." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

EMIUS   THANKSGIVING. 

THE  "  Brenda"  was  scudding  along  with  all  sail  set 
to  catch  the  rising  wind,  and  every  one  on  board 
was  rejoicing,  for  the  long  voyage  was  drawing  toward 
an  end. 

"  Four  weeks  more,  Mrs.  Hardy,  and  we'll  give  you 
a  cup  of  tea  such  as  you  never  had  before,"  said  second 
mate  Hoffmann,  as  he  paused  beside  two  ladies  sitting 
in  a  sheltered  corner  of  the  deck. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  get  it,  and  still  gladder  to  put  my 
feet  on  solid  ground,"  answered  the  elder  lady,  smiling ; 
for  our  friend  Emil  was  a  favorite,  as  well  he  might  be, 
since  he  devoted  himself  to  the  captain's  wife  and 
daughter,  who  were  the  only  passengers  on  board. 

' '  So  shall  I,  even  if  I  have  to  wear  a  pair  of  shoes 
like  Chinese  junks.  I've  tramped  up  and  down  the 
deck  so  much,  I  shall  be  barefooted  if  we  don't  arrive 
soon,"  laughed  Mary,  the  daughter,  showing  two  shabby 
little  boots  as  she  glanced  up  at  the  companion  of  these 
tramps,  remembering  gratefully  how  pleasant  he  had 
made  them. 

"  Don't  think  there  are  any  small  enough  in  China,'1 
answered  Emil,  with  a  sailor's  ready  gallantry,  pri- 
vately resolving  to  hunt  up  the  handsomest  shoes  he 
could  find  the  moment  they  landed. 


EMIL'S   THANKSGIVING.  201 

6 '  I  don't  know  what  }tou  would  have  done  for  exer- 
cise, dear,  if  Mr.  Hoffmann  had  not  made  you  walk 
every  da}^.  This  lazy  life  is  bad  for  young  people, 
though  it  suits  an  old  body  like  me  well  enough  in  calm 
weather.  Is  this  likely  to  be  a  gale,  think  ye?"  added 
Mrs.  Hardy,  with  an  anxious  glance  at  the  west,  where 
the  sun  was  setting  redly. 

4'  Only  a  capful  of  wind,  ma'am,  just  enough  to  send 
us  along  livery,"  answered  Emil,  with  a  comprehensive 
glance  aloft  and  alow. 

"Please  sing,  Mr.  Hoffmann,  it's  so  pleasant  to  have 
music  at  this  time.  "We  shall  miss  it  very  much  when 
we  get  ashore,"  said  Mary,  in  a  persuasive  tone  which 
would  have  won  melody  from  a  shark,  if  such  a  thing 
were  possible. 

Emil  had  often  blessed  his  one  accomplishment  dur- 
ing these  months,  for  it  cheered  the  long  days,  and 
made  the  twilight  hour  his  happiest  time,  wind  and 
weather  permitting.  So  now  he  gladly  tuned  his  pipe, 
and  leaning  on  the  taffrail  near  the  girl,  watched  the 
brown  locks  blowing  in  the  wind  as  he  sang  her  favor- 
ite song :  — 

"  Give  me  a  freshening  breeze,  my  boys, 
A  white  and  swelling  sail, 
A  ship  tbat  cuts  the  dashing  waves,. 

And  weathers  every  gale. 
What  life  is  like  a  sailor's  life, 

So  free,  so  bold,  so  brave  ? 
His  home  the  ocean's  wide  expanse, 
A  coral  bed  his  grave." 

Just  as  the  last  notes  of  the  clear,  strong  voice 
died  away,  Mrs.  Hardy  suddenly  exclaimed,  "What's 
that?" 


202  JO'S  BOYS. 

Emil's  quick  eye  saw  at  once  the  little  puff  of  smoke 
coming  up  a  hatchway  where  no  smoke  should  be,  and 
his  heart  seemed  to  stand  still  for  an  instant  as  the 
dread  word  ' '  Fire  !  "  flashed  through  his  mind.  Then  he 
was  quite  steady,  and  strolled  away,  saying  quietly,  — 

"Smoking  not  allowed  there,  I'll  go  and  stop  it." 
But  the  instant  he  was  out  of  sight  his  face  changed, 
and  he  leaped  down  that  hatchway,  thinking  with  a 
queer  smile  on  his  lips,  —  "If  we  are  afire,  shouldn't 
wonder  if  I  did  make  4  a  coral  bed  nry  grave.'" 

He  was  gone  a  few  minutes,  and  when  he  came  up, 
half  stifled  with  smoke,  he  was  as  white  as  a  veiy  brown 
man  could  be,  but  calm  and  cool  as  he  went  to  report 
to  the  captain. 

"  Fire  in  the  hold,  sir." 

"  Don't  frighten  the  women,"  was  Captain  Hardy's 
first  order ;  then  both  bestirred  themselves  to  discover 
how  strong  the  treacherous  enenry  was,  and  to  rout  it  if 
possible. 

The  "  Brenda's"  cargo  was  a  very  combustible  one, 
and  in  spite  of  the  streams  of  water  poured  into  the 
hold  it  was  soon  evident  that  the  ship  was  doomed. 
Smoke  began  to  ooze  up  between  the  planks  every- 
where, and  the  rising  gale  soon  fanned  the  smouldering 
fire  to  flames  that  began  to  break  out  here  and  there, 
telling  the  dreadful  truth  too  plainly  for  any  one  to 
hide.  Mrs.  Hardy  and  Mary  bore  the  shock  bravely 
when  told  to  be  ready  to  quit  the  ship  at  a  minute's  no- 
tice ;  the  boats  were  hastily  prepared,  and  the  men 
worked  with  a  will  to  batten  down  every  loop-hole 
whence  the  fire  might  escape.  Soon  the  poor  "  Brenda" 
was  a  floating  furnace,  and  the  order  to  "  Take  to  the 


SMIL'S   THANKSGIVING.  203 

boats  ! "  came  for  all.  The  women  first,  of  course  ;  and 
it  was  fortunate  that,  being  a  merchantman,  there  were 
no  more  passengers  on  board,  so  there  was  no  panic, 
and  one  after  the  other  the  boats  pushed  off.  That  in 
which  the  women  were  lingered  near,  for  the  brave 
captain  would  be  the  last  to  leave  his  ship. 

Emil  stayed  by  him  till  ordered  away,  and  reluctantly 
obeyed ;  but  it  was  well  for  him  he  went,  for  just  as  he 
had  regained  the  boat,  rocking  far  below,  half  hidden  by 
a  cloud  of  smoke,  a  mast,  undermined  by  the  fire  now 
raging  in  the  bowels  of  the  ship,  fell  with  a  crash, 
knocking  Captain  Hardy  overboard.  The  boat  soon 
reached  him  as  he  floated  out  from  the  wreck,  and  Emil 
sprung  into  the  sea  to  rescue  him,  for  he  was  wounded 
and  senseless.  This  accident  made  it  necessary  for  the 
young  man  to  take  command,  and  he  at  once  ordered 
the  men  to  pull  for  their  lives,  as  an  explosion  might 
occur  at  any  moment. 

The  other  boats  were  out  of  danger  and  all  lingered 
to  watch  the  splendid  yet  awesome  spectacle  of  the 
burning  ship  alone  on  the  wide  sea,  reddening  the  night 
sky  and  casting  a  lurid  glare  upon  the  water,  where 
floated  the  frail  boats  filled  with  pale  faces,  all  turned 
for  a  last  look  at  the  fated  '  'Brenda,"  slowly  settling  to  her 
watery  grave.  No  one  saw  the  end,  however,  for  the 
gale  soon  swept  the  watchers  far  away  and  separated 
them,  some  never  to  meet  again  till  the  sea  gives  up  its 
dead. 

The  boat  whose  fortunes  we  must  follow  was  alone 
when  dawn  came  up,  showing  these  survivors  all  the 
dangers  of  their  situation.  Food  and  water  had  been 
put  in,  and  such  provision  for  comfort  and  safety   as 


204  JO'S  BOYS. 

time  allowed ;  but  it  was  evident  that  with  a  badly 
wounded  man,  two  women,  and  seven  sailors,  their  sup- 
ply would  not  last  long,  and  help  was  sorely  needed. 
Their  only  hope  was  in  meeting  a  ship,  although  the 
gale,  which  had  raged  all  night,  had  blown  them  out  of 
their  course.  To  this  hope  all  clung,  and  whiled  away 
the  weary  hours,  watching  the  horizon  and  cheering  one 
another  with  prophecies  of  speedy  rescue. 

Second  mate  Hoffmann  was  very  brave  and  helpful, 
though  this  unexpected  responsibility  weighed  heavily 
on  his  shoulders  ;  for  the  captain's  state  seemed  desper- 
ate, the  poor  wife's  gnef  wrung  his  heart,  and  the  blind 
confidence  of  the  }"oung  girl  in  his  power  to  save  them, 
made  him  feel  that  no  sign  of  doubt  or  fear  must  lessen 
it.  The  men  did  their  part  readily  now,  but  Emil  knew 
that  if  starvation  and  despair  made  brutes  of  them,  his 
task  might  be  a  terrible  one.  So  he  clutched  his  cour- 
age with  both  hands,  kept  up  a  manly  front,  and  spoke 
so  cheerily  of  their  good  chances,  that  all  instinctively 
turned  to  him  for  guidance  and  support. 

The  first  day  and  night  passed  in  comparative  com 
fort,  but  when  the  third  came,  things  looked  dark  and 
hope  began  to  fail.  The  wounded  man  was  delirious, 
the  wife  worn  out  with  anxiety  and  suspense,  the  girl 
weak  for  want  of  food,  having  put  away  half  her  biscuit 
for  her  mother,  and  given  her  share  of  water  to  wet  her 
father's  feverish  lips.  The  sailors  ceased  rowing  and  sat 
grimly  waiting,  some  openly  reproaching  their  leader  for 
not  following  their  advice,  others  demanding  more  food, 
all  waxing  dangerous  as  privation  and  pain  brought  out 
the  animal  instincts  lurking  in  them.  Emil  did  his  best, 
but  mortal  man  was  helpless  there,  and  he  could  onlv 


EMWS   THANKSGIVING.  205 

turn  his  haggard  face  from  the  pitiless  sky,  that  dropped 
no  rain  for  their  thirst,  to  the  boundless  sea  where  no 
sail  appeared  to  gladden  their  longing  eyes.  All  day 
he  tried  to  cheer  and  comfort  them,  while  hunger 
gnawed,  thirst  parched,  and  growing  fear  lay  heav}r  at 
his  heart.  He  told  stories  to  the  men,  implored  them 
to  bear  up  for  the  helpless  women's  sake,  and  promised 
rewards  if  the}'  would  pull  while  they  had  strength  to 
regain  the  lost  route,  as  nearly  as  he  could  make  it  out, 
and  increase  their  chance  of  rescue.  He  rigged  an  awn- 
ing of  sail-cloth  over  the  suffering  man  and  tended  him 
like  a  son,  comforted  the  wife,  and  tried  to  make  the 
pale  girl  forget  herself,  by  singing  every  song  he  knew 
or  recounting  his  adventures  by  land  and  sea,  till  she 
smiled  and  took  heart ;  for  all  ended  well. 

The  fourth  day  came  and  the  supply  of  food  and 
water  was  nearly  gone.  Emil  proposed  to  keep  it  for 
the  sick  man  and  the  women,  but  two  of  the  men  re- 
belled, demanding  their  share.  Emil  gave  up  his  as  an 
example,  and  several  of  the  good  fellows  followed  it, 
with  the  quiet  heroism  which  so  often  crops  up  in  rough 
but  manly  natures.  This  shamed  the  others,  and  for 
another  da}7  an  ominous  peace  reigned  in  that  little 
world  of  suffering  and  suspense.  But  during  the  night, 
while  Emil,  worn  out  with  fatigue,  left  the  watch  to  the 
most  trustworthy  sailor,  that  he  might  snatch  an  hour's 
rest,  these  two  men  got  at  the  stores  and  stole  the  last 
of  the  bread  and  water,  and  the  one  bottle  of  brandy, 
which  was  carefully  hoarded  to  keep  up  their  strength 
and  make  the  brackish  water  drinkable.  Half  mad  with 
thirst,  they  drank  greedily  and  b}-  morning  one  was  in 
a  stupor,  from  which  he  never  wokp- :  the  other  so  crazed 


206  JCTSBOYS. 

by  the  strong  stimulant,  that  when  ~Em\l  tried  to  control 
him,  he  leaped  overboard  and  was  lost.  Horror-stricken 
by  this  terrible  scene,  the  other  men  were  submissive 
henceforth,  and  the  boat  floated  on  and  on  with  its  sad 
freight  of  suffering  souls  and  bodies. 

Another  trial  came  to  them  that  left  all  more  de- 
spairing than  before.  A  sail  appeared,  and  for  a  time 
a  frenzy  of  joy  prevailed,  to  be  turned  to  bitterest  dis- 
appointment when  it  passed  03^,  too  far  away  to  see  the 
signals  waved  to  them  or  hear  the  frantic  cries  for 
help  that  rung  across  the  sea.  Emil's  heart  sunk  then, 
for  the  captain  seemed  dying,  and  the  women  could  not 
hold  out  much  longer.  He  kept  up  till  night  came ; 
then  in  the  darkness,  broken  only  b}'  the  feeble  mur- 
muring of  the  sick  man,  the  whispered  prayers  of  the 
poor  wife,  the  ceaseless  swash  of  waves,  Emil  hid  his 
face,  and  had  an  hour  of  silent  agon}'  that  aged  him 
more  than  years  of  happy  life  could  have  done.  It  was 
not  the  plvysioal  hardship  that  daunted  him,  though  want 
and  weakness  tortured  him  ;  it  was  his  dreadful  power- 
lessness  to  conquer  the  cruel  fate  that  seemed  hanging 
over  them.  The  men  he  cared  little  for,  since  these 
perils  were  but  a  part  of  the  life  they  chose  ;  but  the 
master  he  loved,  the  good  woman  who  had  been  so  kind 
to  him,  the  sweet  girl  whose  winsome  presence  had 
made  the  long  voj'age  so  pleasant  for  them  all,  —  if  he 
could  onry  save  these  dear  and  innocent  creatures  from 
a  cruel  death,  he  felt  that  he  could  willingly  give  his 
life  for  them. 

As  he  sat  there  with  his  head  in  his  hands,  bowed 
down  by  the  first  great  trial  of  his  }Toung  life,  the  star- 
less  sk}'  overhead,  the  restless   sea   beneath,   and  all 


EMWS   THANKSGIVING.  207 

around  him  suffering,  for  which  he  had  no  help,  a  soft 
sound  broke  the  silence,  and  he  listened  like  one  in  a 
dream.  It  was  Mary  singing  to  her  mother,  who  lay 
sobbing  in  her  arms,  spent  with  this  long  anguish.  A 
very  faint  and  broken  voice  it  was,  for  the  poor  girl's 
lips  were  parched  with  thirst ;  but  the  loving  heart  turned 
instinctively  to  the  great  Helper  in  this  hour  of  despair, 
and  He  heard  her  feeble  cry.  It  was  a  sweet  old  hymn 
often '  sung  at  Plumfield ;  and  as  he  listened,  all  the 
happ}7  past  came  back  so  clearly  that  Emil  forgot  the 
bitter  present,  and  was  at  home  again.  His  talk  on 
the  house-top  with  Aunt  Jo  seemed  but  yesterday,  and, 
with  a  pang  of  self-reproach,  he  thought,  — 

"The  scarlet  strand  !  I  must  remember  it,  and  do 
my  duty  to  the  end.  Steer  straight,  old  bo}T ;  and  if 
you  can't  come  into  port,  go  down  with  all  sail  set." 

Then,  as  the  soft  voice  crooned  on  to  lull  the  weary 
woman  to  a  fitful  sleep,  Emil  for  a  little  while  forgot  his 
burden  in  a  dream  of  Plumfield.  He  saw  them  all, 
heard  the  familiar  voices,  felt  the  grip  of  welcoming 
hands,  and  seemed  to  say  to  himself,  "  Well,  they  shall 
not  be  ashamed  of  me  if  I  never  see  them  airy  more." 

A  sudden  shout  startled  him  from  that  brief  rest,  and 
a  drop  on  his  forehead  told  him  that  the  blessed  rain 
had  come  at  last,  bringing  salvation  with  it ;  for  thirst- 
is  harder  to  bear  than  hunger,  heat,  or  cold.  Wel- 
comed by  cries  of  joy,  all  lifted  up  their  parched  lips, 
held  out  their  hands,  and  spread  their  garments  to  catch 
the  great  drops  that  soon  came  pouring  down  to  cool 
the  sick  man's  fever,  quench  the  agony  of  thirst,  and 
bring  refreshment  to  every  weary  body  in  the  boat.  All 
night  it  fell,  all  night  the  castaways  revelled  in  the  sav- 


208  JO'S  BOYS. 

ing  shower,  and  took  heart  again,  like  d}ing  plants 
revived  bjT  heaven's  dew.  The  clouds  broke  away  at 
dawn,  and  Emil  sprung  up,  wonderfulty  braced  and 
cheered  b}-  those  hours  of  silent  gratitude  for  this  an- 
swer to  their  cr}T  for  help.  But  this  was  not  all :  as  his 
e3'e  swept  the  horizon,  clear  against  the  rosy  sky  shone 
the  white  sails  of  a  ship,  so  near  that  they  could  see  the 
pennon  at  her  mast-head  and  black  figures  moving  on 
the  deck. 

One  crjT  broke  from  all  those  eager  throats,  and  rung 
across  the  sea,  as  every  man  waved  hat  or  handkerchief 
and  the  women  stretched  imploring  hands  toward  this 
great  white  angel  of  deliverance,  coming  down  upon 
them  as  if  the  fresh  wind  filled  every  sail  to  help  her 
on. 

No  disappointment  now ;  answering  signals  assured 
them  of  help ;  and  in  the  rapture  of  that  moment  the 
happy  women  fell  on  Emil's  neck,  giving  him  his  re- 
ward in  tears  and  blessings  as  their  grateful  hearts 
overflowed.  He  always  said  that  was  the  proudest 
moment  of  his  life,  as  he  stood  there  holding  Mary  in 
his  arms ;  for  the  brave  girl,  who  had  kept  up  so  long, 
broke  down  then,  and  clung  to  him  half  fainting  ;  while 
her  mother  busied  herself  about  the  invalid,  who  seemed 
to  feel  the  joyful  stir,  and  gave  an  order,  as  if  again  on 
the  deck  of  his  lost  ship. 

It  was  soon  over ;  and  when  all  were  safety  aboard 
the  good  "  Urania,"  homeward  bound,  Emil  saw  his 
friends  in  tender  hands,  his  men  among  their  mates,  and 
told  the  stoiy  of  the  wreck  before  he  thought  of  himself. 
The  savory  odor  of  the  soup,  carried  by  to  the  cabin  for 
the  ladies,  reminded  him  that  he  was  starving,  and  a 


EMIUS   THANKSGIVING.  209 

sudden  stagger  betrayed  his  weakness.  He  was  in- 
stantly borne  away,  to  be  half  killed  by  kindness,  and 
being  fed,  clothed,  and  comforted,  was  left  to  rest. 
Just  as  the  surgeon  left  the  state-room,  he  asked  in  his 
broken  voice,  "  What  day  is  this?  My  head  is  so  con- 
fused, I  've  lost  my  reckoning." 

"Thanksgiving  Day,  man!  And  we'll  give  jxm  a 
regular  New  England  dinner,  if  you  '11  eat  it,"  an- 
swered the  surgeon,  heartily. 

But  Emil  was  too  spent  to  do  anything,  except  lie 
still  and  give  thanks,  more  fervently  and  gratefully 
than  ever  before,  for  the  blessed  gift  of  life,  which  was 
the  sweeter  for  a  sense  of  duty  faithfully  performed. 


14 


CHAPTER  XIL 
DAN'S   CHRISTMAS. 

WHERE  was  Dan?  In  prison.  Alas  for  Mrs. 
Jo  !  how  her  heart  would  have  ached  if  she  had 
known  that  while  old  Plum  shone  with  Christmas  cheer 
her  boy  sat  alone  in  his  cell,  trying  to  read  the  little 
book  she  gave  him,  with  eyes  dimmed  now  and  then  by 
the  hot  tears  no  plrysical  suffering  had  ever  wrung  from 
him,  and  longing  with  a  homesick  heart  for  all  that  he 
had  lost. 

Yes,  Dan  was  in  prison ;  but  no  cry  for  help  came 
from  him  as  he  faced  the  terrible  strait  he  was  in  with 
the  dumb  despair  of  an  Indian  at  the  stake ;  for  his 
own  bosom  sin  had  brought  him  there,  and  this  was 
to  be  the  bitter  lesson  that  tamed  the  lawless  spirit  and 
taught  him  self-control. 

The  story  of  his  downfall  is  soon  told ;  for  it  came, 
&s  so  often  happens,  just  when  he  felt  unusually  full  of 
high  hopes,  good  resolutions,  and  dreams  of  a  better 
life0  On  his  journey  he  met  a  pleasant  young  fellow, 
and  naturally  felt  an  interest  in  him,  as  Blair  was  on 
his  way  to  join  his  elder  brothers  on  a  ranch  in  Kansas. 
Card-playing  was  going  on  in  the  smoking-car,  and  the 
lad,  —  for  he  was  barely  twenty,  —  tired  with  the  long 


VAN'S  CHRISTMAS.  211 

journey,  beguiled  the  way  with  such  partners  as  ap- 
peared, being  full  of  spirits,  and  a  little  intoxicated 
with  the  freedom  of  the  West.  Dan,  true  to  his  prom- 
ise, would  not  join,  but  watched  with  intense  interest 
the  games  that  went  on,  and  soon  made  up  his  mind 
that  two  of  the  men  were  sharpers  anxious  to  fleece  the 
boy ,  who  had  imprudently  displayed  a  well-filled  pocket- 
book.  Dan  always  had  a  soft  spot  in  his  heart  for  any 
younger,  weaker  creature  whom  he  met,  and  something 
about  the  lad  reminded  him  of  Teddy ;  so  he  kept  an 
eye  on  Blair,  and  warned  him  against  his  new  friends. 

Vainly,  of  course  ;  for  when  all  stopped  over  night  in 
one  of  the  great  cities,  Dan  missed  the  bo}'  from  the 
hotel  whither  he  had  taken  him  for  safe-keeping ;  and 
learning  who  had  come  for  him,  went  to  find  him,  call- 
ing himself  a  fool  for  his  pains,  yet  unable  to  leave  the 
confiding  boy  to  the  dangers  that  surrounded  him. 

He  found  him  gambling  in  a  low  place  with  the 
men,  who  were  bound  to  have  his  mone}T ;  and  by  the 
look  of  relief  on  Blair's  anxious  face  when  he  saw  him 
Dan  knew  without  words  that  things  were  going  badly 
with  him,  and  he  saw  the  peril  too  late. 

"  I  can't  come  yet,  —  I  've  lost ;  it 's  not  my  money  ; 
I  must  get  it  back,  or  I  dare  not  face  my  brothers," 
whispered  the  poor  lad,  when  Dan  begged  him  to  get 
away  without  further  loss.  Shame  and  fear  made  him 
desperate  ;  and  he  played  on,  sure  that  he  could  recover 
the  money  confided  to  his  care.  Seeing  Dan's  resolute 
face,  keen  eye,  and  travelled  air,  the  sharpers  were 
wary,  played  fair,  and  let  the  boy  win  a  little ;  but 
they  had  no  mind  to  give  up  their  pre}7,  and  finding 
that  Dan  stood  sentinel  at  the  boy's  back,  an  ominous 


212  JO'S  BOYS. 

glance  was  exchanged  between  them,  which  meant, 
"  We  must  get  this  fellow  out  of  the  way." 

Dan  saw  it,  and  was  on  his  guard  ;  for  he  and  Blair 
were  strangers,  evil  deeds  are  easil}T  done  in  such 
places,  and  no  tales  told.  But  he  would  not  desert  the 
bo}T,  and  still  kept  watch  of  every  card  till  he  plainly 
detected  false  play,  and  boldry  said  so.  High  words 
passed,  Dan's  indignation  overcame  his  prudence  ;  and 
when  the  cheat  refused  to  restore  his  plunder  with  in- 
sulting words  and  drawn  pistol,  Dan's  hot  temper  flashed 
out,  and  he  knocked  the  man  down  with  a  blow  that 
sent  him  crashing  head-first  against  a  stove,  to  roll 
senseless  and  bleeding  to  the  floor.  A  wild  scene  fol- 
lowed, but  in  the  midst  of  it  Dan  whispered  to  the  boy, 
"  Get  away,  and  hold  your  tongue.     Don't  mind  me." 

Frightened  and  bewildered,  Blair  quitted  the  cit}'  at 
once,  leaving  Dan  to  pass  the  night  in  the  lock-up,  and 
a  few  days  later  to  stand  in  court  charged  with  man- 
slaughter ;  for  the  man  was  dead.  Dan  had  no  friends, 
and  having  once  briefly  told  the  stoiy,  held  his  peace, 
anxious  to  keep  all  knowledge  of  this  sad  affair  from 
those  at  home.  He  even  concealed  his  name,  —  giving 
that  of  David  Kent,  as  he  had  done  several  times  be- 
fore in  emergencies.  It  was  all  over  veiy  soon  ;  but  as 
there  were  extenuating  circumstances  his  sentence  was 
a  3Tear  in  prison,  with  hard  labor. 

Dazed  b}T  the  rapidity  with  which  this  horrible  change 
in  his  life  came  upon  him,  Dan  did  not  fully  realize  it 
till  the  iron  door  clanged  behind  him  and  he  sat  alone 
in  a  cell  as  narrow,  cold,  and  silent  as  a  tomb.  He 
knew  that  a  word  would  bring  Mr.  Laurie  to  help  and 
comfort  him ;  but  he  could  not  bear  to  tell  of  this  dis- 


JOAN'S   CHRISTMAS.  213 

grace,  or  see  the  sorrow  and  the  shame  it  would  cause 
the  friends  who  hoped  so  much  for  him. 

"  No,"  he  said,  clinching  his  fist,  "I'll  let  them  think 
me  dead  first.  I  shall  be  if  I  am  kept  here  long ;  "  and 
he  sprung  up  to  pace  the  stone  floor  like  a  caged  lion, 
with  a  turmoil  of  wrath  and  grief,  rebellion  and  remorse, 
seething  in  heart  and  brain,  till  he  felt  as  if  he  should 
go  mad  and  beat  upon  the  walls  that  shut  him  away 
from  the  liberty  which  was  his  life.  For  days  he  suf- 
fered terribly,  then  worn  out,  sunk  into  a  black  melan- 
choly sadder  to  see  than  his  excitement. 

The  warden  of  this  prison  was  a  rough  man  who  had 
won  the  ill-will  of  all  by  unnecessary  harshness,  but  the 
chaplain  was  full  of  sympathy,  and  did  his  hard  duty 
faithfully  and  tenderly.  He  labored  with  poor  Dan, 
but  seemed  to  make  no  impression,  and  was  forced  to 
wait  till  work  had  soothed  the  excited  nerves  and  cap- 
tivity tamed  the  proud  spirit  that  would  suffer  but  not 
complain. 

Dan  was  put  in  the  brush-shop,  and  feeling  that  ac- 
tivity was  his  only  salvation,  worked  with  a  feverish 
energy  that  soon  won  the  approval  of  the  master  and 
the  envy  of  less  skilful  mates.  Day  after  day  he  sat 
in  his  place,  watched  by  an  armed  overseer,  forbidden 
any  but  necessary  words,  no  intercourse  with  the  men 
beside  him,  no  change  but  from  cell  to  shop,  no  exer- 
cise but  the  dreary  marches  to  and  fro,  each  man's 
hand  on  the  other's  shoulder,  keeping  step  with  the 
dreary  tramp  so  different  from  the  ringing  tread  of 
soldiers.  Silent,  gaunt,  and  grim,  Dan  did  his  daily 
task,  ate  his  bitter  bread,  and  obeyed  commands  with  a 
rebellious  flash  of  the  eye,  that  made  the  warden  say, 


214  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  That 's  a  dangerous  man,  —  Watch  him.  He  '11  break 
out  some  day." 

There  were  others  more  dangerous  than  he,  because 
older  in  crime  and  ready  for  any  desperate  outbreak  to 
change  the  monoton3T  of  long  sentences.  These  men  soon 
divined  Dan's  mood,  and  in  the  mysterious  way  con- 
victs invent,  managed  to  convey  to  him  before  a  month 
was  over  that  plans  were  being  made  for  a  mutiny  at 
the  first  opportunity.  Thanksgiving  Day  was  one  of 
the  few  chances  for  them  to  speak  together  as  they  en- 
joyed an  hour  of  freedom  in  the  prison-yard.  Then  all 
would  be  settled  and  the  rash  attempt  made  if  possible, 
probably  to  end  in  bloodshed  and  defeat  for  most,  but 
liberty  for  a  few.  Dan  had  already  planned  his  own 
escape  and  bided  his  time,  growing  more  and  more 
moody,  fierce,  and  rebellious,  as  loss  of  liberty  wore 
upon  soul  and  bod}' ;  for  this  sudden  change  from  his 
free,  healthy  life  to  such  a  narrow,  gloom}7,  and  miser- 
able one,  could  not  but  have  a  terrible  effect  upon  one 
of  Dan's  temperament  and  age.  He  brooded  over  his 
ruined  life,  gave  up  all  his  happy  hopes  and  plans,  felt 
that  he  could  never  face  dear  old  Plumfield  again,  or 
touch  those  friendly  hands,  with  the  stain  of  blood  upon 
his  own.  He  did  not  care  for  the  wretched  man  whom 
he  had  killed,  for  such  a  life  was  better  ended,  he 
thought ;  but  the  disgrace  of  prison  would  never  be 
wiped  out  of  his  memory,  though  the  cropped  hair 
would  grow  again,  the  gray  suit  easily  be  replaced, 
and  the  bolts  and  bars  left  far  behind. 

"  It 's  all  over  with  me  ;  I  've  spoilt  my  life,  now  let 
it  go.  I  '11  give  up  the  fight  and  get  what  pleasure  I 
can  anywhere,  anyhow.     They  shall  think  me  dead  and 


VAN'S   CHRISTMAS,  215 

so  still  care  for  me,  but  never  know  what  I  am.  Poor 
Mother  Bhaer !  she  tried  to  help  me,  but  it  's  no  use ; 
the  firebrand  can't  be  saved." 

And  dropping  his  head  in  his  hand  as  he  sat  on  his 
low  bed,  Dan  would  mourn  over  all  he  had  lost  in  tear- 
less misery,  till  merciful  sleep  would  comfort  him  with 
dreams  of  the  happy  days  when  the  boys  played  to- 
gether, or  those  still  later  and  happier  ones  when  all 
smiled  on  him,  and  Plumfield  seemed  to  have  gained  a 
new  and  curious  charm. 

There  was  one  poor  fellow  in  Dan's  shop  whose  fate 
was  harder  than  his,  for  his  sentence  expired  in  the 
spring,  but  there  was  little  hope  of  his  living  till  that 
time  ;  and  the  coldest-hearted  man  pitied  poor  Mason 
as  he  sat  coughing  his  life  awa}>  in  that  close  place  and 
counting  the  weary  daj-s  j'et  to  pass  before  he  could 
see  his  wife  and  little  child  again.  There  was  some 
hope  that  he  might  be  pardoned  out,  but  he  had  no 
friends  to  bestir  themselves  in  the  matter,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  great  Judge's  pardon  would  soon  end 
his  patient  pain  forever. 

Dan  pitied  him  more  than  he  dared  to  show,  and  this 
one  tender  emotion  in  that  dark  time  was  like  the  little 
flower  that  sprung  up  between  the  stones  of  the  prison- 
yard  and  saved  the  captive  from  despair,  in  the  beau- 
tiful old  story.  Dan  helped  Mason  with  his  work  when 
he  was  too  feeble  to  finish  his  task,  and  the  grateful 
look  that  thanked  him  was  a  ray  of  sunshine  to  cheer 
his  cell  when  he  was  alone.  Mason  envied  the  splendid 
health  of  his  neighbor,  and  mourned  to  see  it  wasting 
there.  He  was  a  peaceful  soul  and  tried,  as  far  as  a 
whispered  word  or  a  warning  glance  could  do  it,  to  de- 


216  JO'S  BOYS. 

ter  Dan  from  joining  the  "  bad  lot."  as  the  rebels  were 
called.  But  having  turned  his  face  from  the  light,  Dan 
found  the  downward  way  easy,  and  took  a  grim  satis- 
faction in  the  prospect  of  a  general  outbreak  during 
which  he  might  revenge  himself  upon  the  tyrannical 
warden,  and  strike  a  blow  for  his  own  liberty,  feeling 
that  an  hour  of  insurrection  would  be  a  welcome  vent 
for  the  pent-up  passions  that  tormented  him.  He  had 
tamed  many  a  wild  animal,  but  his  own  lawless  spirit 
was  too  much  for  him,  till  he  found  the  curb  that  made 
him  master  of  himself. 

The  Sunday  before  Thanksgiving,  as  he  sat  in  chapel, 
Dan  observed  several  guests  in  the  seats  reserved  for 
them,  and  looked  anxiously  to  see  if  an}T  familiar  face 
was  there ;  for  he  had  a  mortal  fear  that  some  one  from 
home  would  suddenly  confront  him.  No,  all  were 
strangers,  and  he  soon  forgot  them  in  listening  to  the 
chaplain's  cheerful  words,  and  the  sad  singing  of  many 
heavy  hearts.  People  often  spoke  to  the  convicts,  so  it 
caused  no  surprise  when,  on  being  invited  to  address 
them,  one  of  the  ladies  rose  and  said  she  would  tell 
them  a  little  story ;  which  announcement  caused  the 
3'ounger  listeners  to  prick  up  their  ears,  and  even  the 
older  ones  to  look  interested ;  for  anjT  change  in  their 
monotonous  life  was  welcome. 

The  speaker  was  a  middle-aged  woman  in  black,  with 
a  S3'mpathetic  face,  e}Tes  full  of  compassion,  and  a  voice 
that  seemed  to  warm  the  heart,  because  of  certain  moth- 
erly tones  in  it.  She  reminded  Dan  of  Mrs.  Jo,  and  he 
listened  intently  to  ever}T  word,  feeling  that  each  was 
meant  for  him,  because  by  chance,  they  came  at  the 
moment  when  he  needed  a  softening  memory  to  break 


DAN'S   CHRISTMAS,  21? 

up  the  ice  of  despair  which  was  blighting  all  the  good 
impulses  of  his  nature. 

It  was  a  very  simple  little  stor}7,  but  it  caught  the 
men's  attention  at  once,  being  about  two  soldiers  in  a 
hospital  during  the  late  war,  both  badly  wounded  in 
the  right  arm,  and  both  anxious  to  save  these  bread- 
winners and  go  home  unmaimed.  One  was  patient, 
docile,  and  cheerfully  obeyed  orders,  even  when  told 
that  the  arm  must  go.  He  submitted  and  after  much 
suffering  recovered,  grateful  for  life,  though  he  could 
fight  no  more.  The  other  rebelled,  would  listen  to  no 
advice,  and  having  delayed  too  long,  died  a  lingering 
death,  bitterly  regretting  his  folly  when  it  was  too  late. 
"  Now,  as  all  stories  should  have  a  little  moral,  let 
me  tell  you  mine,"  added  the  lady,  with  a  smile,  as 
she  looked  at  the  row  of  young  men  before  her,  sadly 
wondering  what  brought  them  there. 

"  This  is  a  hospital  for  soldiers  wounded  in  life's  battle  ; 
here  are  sick  souls,  weak  wills,  insane  passions,  blind 
consciences,  all  the  ills  that  come  from  broken  laws,  bring- 
ing their  inevitable  pain  and  punishment  with  them. 
There  is  hope  and  help  for  every  one,  for  God's  mercy 
is  infinite  and  man's  charity  is  great ;  but  penitence  and 
submission  must  come  before  the  cure  is  possible.  Pay 
the  forfeit  manfully,  for  it  is  just;  but  from  the  suffer* 
ing  and  shame  wring  new  strength  for  a  nobler  life. 
The  scar  will  remain,  but  it  is  better  for  a  man  to  lose 
both  arms  than  his  soul ;  and  these  hard  3*ears,  instead 
of  being  lost,  may  be  made  the  most  precious  of  your 
lives,  if  the}*  teach  you  to  rule  yourselves.  O  friends, 
try  to  outlive  the  bitter  past,  to  wash  the  sin  away,  and 
begin  anew,     If  not  for  your  own  sakes,  for  that  of  the 


218  JO'S  BOYS. 

dear  mothers,  wives,  and  children,  who  wait  and  hope 
so  patiently  for  you.  Remember  them,  and  do  not  let 
them  love  and  long  in  vain.  And  if  there  be  any  here 
so  forlorn  that  they  have  no  friend  to  care  for  them, 
never  forget  the  Father  whose  arms  are  alwa3Ts  open  to 
receive,  forgive,  and  comfort  His  prodigal  sons,  even  at 
the  eleventh  hour.'* 

There  the  little  sermon  ended  ;  but  the  preacher  of  it 
felt  that  her  few  hearty  words  had  not  been  uttered  in 
vain,  for  one  boy's  head  was  down,  and  several  faces 
wore  the  softened  look  which  told  that  a  tender  memory 
was  touched.  Dan  was  forced  to  set  his  lips  to  keep 
them  steady,  and  drop  his  eyes  to  hide  the  sudden  dew 
that  dimmed  them  when  waiting,  hoping  friends  were 
spoken  of.  He  was  glad  to  be  alone  in  his  cell  again, 
and  sat  thinking  deeply,  instead  of  trying  to  forget  him- 
self in  sleep.  It  seemed  as  if  those  words  were  just 
what  he  needed  to  show  him  where  he  stood  and  how 
fateful  the  next  few  days  might  be  to  him.  Should  he 
join  the  "  bad  lot,"  and  perhaps  add  another  crime  to 
the  one  already  committed,  lengthen  the  sentence  al- 
ready so  terrible  to  bear,  deliberately  turn  his  back  on 
all  that  was  good,  and  mar  the  future  that  might  }'et  be 
redeemed?  Or  should  he,  like  the  wiser  man  in  the 
story,  submit,  bear  the  just  punishment,  try  to  be  the 
better  for  it ;  and  though  the  scar  would  remain,  it  might 
serve  as  a  reminder  of  a  battle  not  wholly  lost,  since  he 
had  saved  his  soul  though  innocence  was  gone  ?  Then 
he  would  dare  go  home,  perhaps,  confess,  and  find  fresh 
strength  in  the  pity  and  consolation  of  those  who  never 
gave  him  up. 

Good  and  evil  fought  for  Dan  that  night  as  did  the 


DAN'S   CHRISTMAS.  219 

angel  and  the  devil  for  Sintram,  and  it  was  hard  to  tell 
whether  lawless  nature  or  loving  heart  would  conquer. 
Remorse  and  resentment,  sbame  and  sorrow,  pride  and 
passion,  made  a  battle-field  of  that  narrow  cell,  and  the 
poor  fellow  felt  as  if  he  had  fiercer  enemies  to  fight  now 
than  any  he  had  met  in  all  his  wanderings.  A  little 
thing  turned  the  scale,  as  it  so  often  does  in  these  nrys- 
terious  hearts  of  ours,  and  a  touch  of  sjinpathy  helped 
Dan  decide  the  course  which  would  bless  or  ban  his 
life. 

In  the  dark  hour  before  the  dawn,  as  he  lay  wakeful 
on  his  bed,  a  ray  of  light  shone  through  the  bars,  the 
bolts  turned  softly,  and  a  man  came  in.  It  was  the 
good  chaplain,  led  by  the  same  instinct  that  brings  a 
mother  to  her  sick  child's  pillow  ;  for  long  experience 
as  nurse  of  souls  had  taught  him  to  see  the  signs  of 
hope  in  the  hard  faces  about  him,  and  to  know  when 
the  moment  came  for  a  helpful  word  and  the  cordial  of 
sincere  prayer  that  brings  such  comfort  and  healing  to 
tried  and  troubled  hearts.  He  had  been  to  Dan  before 
at  unexpected  hours,  but  alwaj^s  found  him  sullen,  in- 
different, or  rebellious,  and  had  gone  awa}T  to  patiently 
bide  his  time.  Now  it  had  come;  a  look  of  relief  was 
in  the  prisoner's  face  as  the  light  shone  on  it,  and  the 
sound  of  a  human  voice  was  strangely  comfortable  after 
listening  to  the  whispers  of  the  passions,  doubts,  and 
fears  which  had  haunted  the  cell  for  hours,  dismaying 
Dan  by  their  power,  and  showing  him  how  much  he 
needed  help  to  fight  the  good  fight,  since  he  had  no 
armor  of  his  own. 

"Kent,  poor  Mason  has  gone.  He  left  a  message 
for  you,  and  I  felt  impelled  to  come  and  give  it  now, 


220  JO'S  BOYS. 

because  I  think  you  were  touched  by  what  we  heard 
to-day,  and  in  need  of  the  help  Mason  tried  to  give 
you,"  said  the  chaplain,  taking  the  one  seat  and  fixing 
his  kind  eyes  on  the  grim  figure  in  the  bed. 

"  Thank  j'ou,  sir,  I  'd  like  to  hear  it,"  was  all  Dan's 
answer ;  but  he  forgot  himself  in  pity  for  the  poor  fel- 
low dead  in  prison,  with  no  last  look  at  wife  or  child. 

"  He  went  suddenly,  but  remembered  you,  and  begged 
me  to  say  these  words,  '  Tell  him  not  to  do  it,  but  to 
hold  on,  do  his  best,  and  when  his  time  is  out  go  right 
to  Mary,  and  she  '11  make  him  welcome  for  nry  sake. 
He  's  got  no  friends  in  these  parts  and  will  feel  lone- 
some, but  a  woman  's  alwa}Ts  safe  and  comfortable  when 
a  fellow  's  down  on  his  luck.  Give  him  my  love  and 
good-b}7 ;  for  he  was  kind  to  me,  and  God  will  bless 
him  for  it.'  Then  he  died  quietly,  and  to-morrow  will 
go  home  with  God's  pardon,  since  man's  came  too 
late." 

Dan  said  nothing,  but  laid  his  arm  across  his  face 
and  lay  quite  still.  Seeing  that  the  pathetic  little  mes- 
sage had  done  its  work  even  better  than  he  hoped,  the 
chaplain  went  on,  unconscious  how  soothing  his  pater- 
nal voice  was  to  the  poor  prisoner  who  longed  to  "go 
home,"  but  felt  he  had  forfeited  the  right. 

"I  hope  you  won't  disappoint  this  humble  friend 
whose  last  thought  was  for  you.  I  know  that  there  is 
trouble  brewing,  and  fear  that  }ou  may  be  tempted  to 
lend  a  hand  on  the  wrong  side.  Don't  do  it,  for  the 
plot  will  not  succeed,  —  it  never  does,  —  and  it  would  be 
a  pity  to  spoil  your  record  which  is  fair  so  far.  Keep  up 
your  courage,  my  son,  and  go  out  at  the  3Tear's  end 
better,  not  worse,  for  this  hard  experience.     Remember 


DAN'S   CHRISTMAS,  221 

a  grateful  woman  waits  to  welcome  and  thank  you  if 
you  have  no  friends  of  your  own  ;  if  }Tou  have,  do  your 
best  for  their  sake,  and  let  us  ask  God  to  help  you  as 
He  only  can." 

Then  waiting  for  no  answer  the  good  man  praj^ed 
heartily,  and  Dan  listened  as  he  never  had  before  ;  for 
the  lonely  hour,  the  dying  message,  the  sudden  uprising 
of  his  better  self,  made  it  seem  as  if  some  kind  angel 
had  .come  to  save  and  comfort  him. 

After  that  night  there  was  a  change  in  Dan,  though 
no  one  knew  it  but  the  chaplain ;  for  to  all  the  rest  he 
was  the  same  silent,  stern,  unsocial  fellow  as  before, 
and  turning  his  back  on  the  bad  and  the  good  alike, 
found  his  only  pleasure  in  the  books  his  friend  brought 
him.  Slowly,  as  the  steadfast  drop  wears  away  the 
rock,  the  patient  kindness  of  this  man  won  Dan's  con- 
fidence, and  led  by  him  he  began  to  climb  out  of  the 
Valley  of  Humiliation  toward  the  mountains,  whence, 
through  the  clouds,  one  can  catch  glimpses  of  the  Celes- 
tial City  whither  all  true  pilgrims  sooner  or  later  turn 
their  wistful  eyes  and  stumbling  feet.  There  were  many 
backslidings,  many  struggles  with  Giant  Despair  and 
fiery  Apollyon,  many  heavy  hours  when  life  did  not 
seem  worth  living  and  Mason's  escape  the  only  hope. 
But  through  all,  the  grasp  of  a  friendly  hand,  the  sound 
of  a  brother's  voice,  the  unquenchable  desire  to  atone 
for  the  past  by  a  better  future,  and  win  the  right  to  see 
home  again,  kept  poor  Dan  to  his  great  task  as  the  old 
year  drew  to  its  end,  and  the  new  waited  to  turn  an- 
other leaf  in  the  book  whose  hardest  lesson  he  was 
learning  now. 

At  Christmas  he  yearned  so  for  Plumfield  that  he 


222  JO'S  BOYS. 

devised  a  way  to  send  a  word  of  greeting  to  cheer  their 
anxious  hearts,  and  comfort  his  own.  He  wrote  to 
Mary  Mason,  who  lived  in  another  State,  asking  her  to 
mail  the  letter  he  inclosed.  In  it  he  merely  said  he  wa* 
well  and  busy,  had  given  up  the  farm,  and  had  othet 
plans  which  he  would  tell  later ;  would  not  be  home 
before  autumn  probably,  nor  write  often,  but  was  all 
right,  and  sent  love  and  merry  Christmas  to  every  one. 
Then  he  took  up  his  solitary  life  again,  and  tried  to 
pay  his  forfeit  manfully. 


CHAPTER  XIDL 

NAT'S  NEW   YEAR, 

3i  I   DON'T  expect  to  hear  from  Emil  jet,  and  Nat 

-*-  writes  regularly,  but  where  is  Dan?  Only  two 
or  three  postals  since  he  went.  Such  an  energetic  fel- 
low as  he  is  could  buy  up  all  the  farms  in  Kansas  by 
this  time,"  said  Mrs.  Jo  one  morning  when  the  mail 
came  in  and  no  card  or  envelope  bore  Dan's  dashing 
hand. 

"  He  never  writes  often,  you  know,  but  does  his  work 
and  then  comes  home.  Months  and  years  seem  to 
mean  little  to  him,  and  he  is  probably  prospecting  in 
the  wilderness,  forgetful  of  time,"  answered  Mr.  Bhaer, 
deep  in  one  of  Nat's  long  letters  from  Leipsic, 

"But  he  promised  he  would  let  me  know  how  he 
got  on,  and  Dan  keeps  his  word  if  he  can.  I'm  afraid 
something  has  happened  to  him ;  "  and  Mrs.  Jo  com- 
forted herself  by  patting  Don's  head,  as  he  came  at  the 
sound  of  his  master's  name  to  look  at  her  with  eyes 
almost  human  in  their  wistful  intelligence. 

"  Don't  worry,  Mum  dear,  nothing  ever  happens  to 
the  old  fellow.  He  '11  turn  up  all  right,  and  come  stalk- 
ing in  some  day  with  a  gold  mine  in  one  pocket  and  a 
prairie  in  the  other,  as  jolly  as  a  grig,"  said  Ted,  wh$ 
was  in  no  haste  to  deliver  Octoo  to  her  rightful  owner 


224  JO'S  BOYS. 

44  Perhaps  he  has  gone  to  Montana  and  given  up  the 
farm  plan.  He  seemed  to  like  the  Indians  best,  I 
thought ; "  and  Rob  went  to  help  his  mother  with  her 
pile  of  letters  and  his  cheerful  suggestions. 

"  I  hope  so,  it  would  suit  him  best.  But  I  am  sure 
he  would  have  told  us  his  change  of  plan  and  sent  for 
some  money  to  work  with.  No,  I  feel  in  my  prophetic 
bones  that  something  is  wrong,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  looking 
as  solemn  as  Fate  in  a  breakfast-cap. 

44  Then  we  shall  hear;  ill  news  always  travels  fast. 
Don't  borrow  trouble,  Jo,  but  hear  how  well  Nat  is  get- 
ting on.  I  'd  no  idea  the  boy  would  care  for  anything 
but  music.  My  good  friend  Baumgarten  has  launched 
him  well,  and  it  will  do  him  good  if  he  lose  not  his 
head.  A  good  lad,  but  new  to  the  world,  and  Leipsic 
is  full  of  snares  for  the  unwarj'.     Gott  be  with  him  !  " 

The  Professor  read  Nat's  enthusiastic  account  of  cer- 
tain literary  and  musical  parties  he  had  been  to,  the 
splendors  of  the  opera,  the  kindness  of  his  new  friends, 
the  delight  of  studying  under  such  a  master  as  Berg- 
mann,  his  hopes  of  rapid  gain,  and  his  great  gratitude 
to  those  who  had  opened  this  enchanted  world  to  him. 

44  That,  now,  is  satisfactory  and  comfortable.  I  felt 
that  Nat  had  unsuspected  power  in  him  before  he  went 
away ;  he  was  so  manly  and  full  of  excellent  plans," 
said  Mrs.  Jo,  in  a  satisfied  tone. 

4 '  We  shall  see.  He  will  doubtless  get  his  lesson  and 
be  the  better  for  it.  That  comes  to  us  all  in  our  young 
days.  I  hope  it  will  not  be  too  hard  for  our  good 
jungling,"  answered  the  Professor,  with  a  wise  smile, 
remembering  his  own  student  life  in  German}^ 

He  was  right ;  and  Nat  was  already  getting  his  lesson 


NATS   NEW   YEAR,  225 

in  life  with  a  rapidity  which  would  have  astonished  his 
friends  at  home.  The  manliness  over  which  Mrs.  Jo 
rejoiced  was  developing  in  unexpected  ways,  and  quiet 
Nat  had  plunged  into  the  more  harmless  dissipations  oi 
the  gay  city  with  all  the  ardor  of  an  inexperienced  youth 
taking  his  first  sip  of  pleasure.  The  entire  freedom  and 
sense  ot  independence  was  delicious,  for  many  benefits 
began  to  burden  him,  and  he  longed  to  stand  on  his 
own  legs  and  make  his  own  wa}\  No  one  knew  his 
past  here ;  and  with  a  well-stocked  wardrobe,  a  hand- 
some sum  at  his  banker's,  and  the  best  teacher  in 
Leipsic,  he  made  his  debut  as  a  musical  young  gentle- 
man, presented  by  the  much-respected  Professor  Bhaer 
and  the  wealthy  Mr,  Laurence,  who  had  manjT  friends 
glad  to  throw  open  their  houses  to  his  protege.  Thanks 
to  these  introductions,  his  fluent  German,  modest  man- 
ners, and  undeniable  talent,  the  stranger  was  cordially 
welcomed,  and  launched  at  once  into  a  circle  which  many 
an  ambitious  young  man  strove  in  vain  to  enter. 

All  this  rather  turned  Nat's  head ;  and  as  he  sat  in 
the  brilliant  opera-house,  chatted  among  the  ladies  at 
some  select  coffee-party,  or  whisked  an  eminent  profes- 
sor's amiable  daughter  down  the  room,  trying  to  imagine 
she  was  Daisy,  he  often  asked  himself  if  this  gay  fellow 
could  be  the  poor  homeless  little  street  musician  who 
once  stood  waiting  in  the  rain  at  the  gates  of  Plumfield. 
His  heart  was  true,  his  impulses  good,  and  his  ambi- 
tions high ;  but  the  weak  side  of  his  nature  came 
uppermost  here  ;  vanhty  led  him  astrajT,  pleasure  intox- 
icated him,  and  for  a  time  he  forgot  eve^-thing  but  the 
delights  of  this  new  and  charming  life.  Without  mean- 
ing  to  deceive,  he   allowed  people  to  imagine  him   a 

m 


226  JO'S  BOYS. 

youth  of  good  family  and  prospects  ;  he  boasted  a  little 
of  Mr.  Laurie's  wealth  and  influence,  of  Processor 
Bhaer's  eminence,  and  the  flourishing  college  at  which 
he  himself  had  been  educated.  Mrs.  Jo  was  introduced 
to  the  sentimental  Frauleins  who  read  her  books,  and 
the  charms  and  virtues  of  his  own  dear  Mddchen  con- 
fided to  sympathetic  mammas.  All  these  boyish  boast- 
ings and  innocent  vanities  were  duly  circulated  among 
the  gossips,  and  his  importance  much  increased  thereby, 
to  his  surprise  and  gratification,  as  well  as  some 
shame. 

But  they  bore  fruit  that  was  bitter  in  the  end ;  for, 
finding  that  he  was  considered  one  of  the  upper  class, 
it  very  soon  became  impossible  for  him  to  live  in  the 
humble  quarters  he  had  chosen,  or  to  lead  the  studious, 
quiet  life  planned  for  him.  He  met  other  students, 
young  officers,  and  gay  fellows  of  all  sorts,  and  was 
flattered  at  being  welcomed  among  them;  though  it 
was  a  costly  pleasure,  and  often  left  a  thorn  of  regret 
to  vex  his  honest  conscience.  He  was  tempted  to  take 
better  rooms  in  a  more  fashionable  street,  leaving  good 
Frau  Tetzel  to  lament  his  loss,  and  his  artist  neighbor, 
Fraulein  Vogelstein,  to  shake  her  gray  ringlets  and  pre- 
dict his  return,  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man. 

The  sum  placed  at  his  disposal  for  expenses  and 
such  simple  pleasures  as  his  busy  life  could  command 
seemed  a  fortune  to  Nat,  though  it  was  smaller  than 
generous  Mr.  Laurie  first  proposed.  Professor  Bhaer 
wisely  counselled  prudence,  as  Nat  was  unused  to  the 
care  of  money,  and  the  good  man  knew  the  temptations 
that  a  well-filled  purse  makes  possible  at  this  pleasure- 
loving  age.     So  Nat  enjoyed  his  handsome  little  apart- 


WAT'S  NEW  YEAR.  227 

ment  immensely,  and  insensibly  let  many  unaccustomed 
luxuries  creep  in.  He  loved  his  music,  and  never 
missed  a  lesson  ;  but  the  hours  he  should  have  spent  in 
patient  practice  were  too  often  wasted  at  theatre,  ball, 
beer-garden,  or  club,  —  doing  no  harm  beyond  that 
waste  of  precious  time,  and  money  not  his  own  ;  for 
he  had  no  vices,  and  took  his  recreation  like  a  gentle- 
man, so  far.  But  slowly  a  change  for  the  worse  was 
beginning  to  show  itself,  and  he  felt  it.  These  first 
steps  along  the  flowery  road  were  downward,  not  up- 
ward ;  and  the  constant  sense  of  disloyalty  which  soon 
began  to  haunt  him  made  Nat  feel,  in  the  few  quiet 
hours  he  gave  himself,  that  all  was  not  well  with  him, 
spite  of  the  happy  whirl  in  which  he  lived. 

"  Another  month,  and  then  I  will  be  steady,"  he  said 
more  than  once,  trying  to  excuse  the  delay  by  the  fact 
that  all  was  new  to  him,  that  his  friends  at  home  wished 
him  to  be  happy,  and  that  society  was  giving  him  the 
polish  he  needed.  But  as  each  month  slipped  away  it 
grew  harder  to  escape  ;  he  was  inevitably  drawn  on, 
and  it  was  so  eas}~  to  drift  with  the  tide  that  he  de- 
ferred the  evil  day  as  long  as  possible.  Winter  fes- 
tivities followed  the  more  wholesome  summer  pleasures, 
and  Nat  found  them  more  costly ;  for  the  hospitable 
ladies  expected  some  return  from  the  stranger;  and 
carriages,  bouquets,  theatre-tickets,  and  all  the  little 
expenses  a  young  man  cannot  escape  at  such  times,  told 
heavily  on  the  purse  which  had  seemed  bottomless  at 
first.  Taking  Mr.  Laurie  for  his  model,  Nat  became 
quite  a  gallant,  and  was  universally  liked  ;  for  through 
all  the  newly  acquired  airs  and  graces  the  genuine 
honesty  and  simplicity  of  his  character  plainly  shone, 


228  JO'S  BOYS. 

winning  confidence  and  affection  from  all  who  knew 
him. 

Among  these  was  a  certain  amiable  old  lady  with  a 
musical  daughter,  —  well-born  but  poor,  and  very  anx- 
ious to  many  the  aforesaid  daughter  to  some  wealthy 
man.  Nat's  little  fictions  concerning  his  prospects  and 
friends  charmed  the  gnadige  Frau  as  much  as  his  music 
and  devoted  manners  did  the  sentimental  Minna.  Their 
quiet  parlor  seemed  homelike  and  restful  to  Nat,  when 
tired  of  ga}*er  scenes ;  and  the  motherly  interest  of 
the  elder  lady  was  sweet  and  comfortable  to  him  ;  while 
the  tender  blue  eyes  of  the  pretty  girl  were  alwaj's  so 
full  of  welcome  when  he  came,  of  regret  when  he  left, 
and  of.  admiration  when  he  played  to  her,  that  he  found 
it  impossible  to  keep  away  from  this  attractive  spot. 
He  meant  no  harm,  and  feared  no  danger,  having  con- 
fided to  the  Frau  Mamma  that  he  was  betrothed  ;  so  he 
continued  to  call,  little  dreaming  what  ambitious  hopes 
the  old  lad}T  cherished,  nor  the  peril  there  was  in  re- 
ceiving the  adoration  of  a  romantic  German  girl,  till  it 
was  too  late  to  spare  her  pain  and  himself  great 
regret. 

Of  course  some  inkling  of  these  new  and  agreeable 
experiences  got  into  the  voluminous  letters  he  never 
was  too  gay,  too  busy,  or  too  tired  to  write  each  week : 
and  while  Daisy  rejoiced  over  his  happiness  and  suc- 
cess, and  the  boys  laughed  at  the  idea  of  "  old  Chirper 
coming  out  as  a  society  man,"  the  elders  looked  sober, 
and  said  among  themselves,  — 

"He  is  going  too  fast;  he.  must  have  a  word  of 
warning,  or  trouble  may  come." 

But  Mr.  Laurie  said.  "Oh,  let  him  have  his  fling; 


NATS  NEW   YEAR.  229 

he  's  been  dependent  and  repressed  long  enough.  He 
can't  go  far  with  the  money  he  has,  and  I  've  no  fear 
of  his  getting  into  debt.  He 's  too  timid  and  too  honest 
to  be  reckless.  It  is  his  first  taste  of  freedom  ;  let  him 
enjoy  it,  and  he  '11  work:  the  better  by  and  by  ;  I  know, 
—  and  I  'm  sure  I  'm  right." 

So  the  warnings  were  very  gentle,  and  the  good  peo- 
ple waited  anxiously  to  hear  more  of  hard  study,  and 
less  of  "  splendid  times."  Daisy  sometimes  wondered, 
with  a  pang  at  her  faithful  heart,  if  one  of  the  charming 
Minnas,  Hildegardes,  and  Lottchens  mentioned  were 
not  stealing  her  Nat  away  from  her ;  but  she  never 
asked,  alwa37s  wrote  calmly  and  cheerfully,  and  looked 
in  vain  for  any  hint  of  change  in  the  letters  that  were 
worn  out  with  much  reading. 

Month  after  month  slipped  away,  till  the  holidays 
came  with  gifts,  good  wishes,  and  brilliant  festivities. 
Nat  expected  to  enjoy  himself  very  much,  and  did  at 
first ;  for  a  German  Christmas  is  a  spectacle  worth  see- 
ing. But  he  paid  dearly  for  the  abandon  with  which  he 
threw  himself  into  the  gayeties  of  that  memorable  week  ; 
and  on  New  Year's  Day  the  reckoning  came.  It  seemed 
as  if  some  malicious  fairy  had  prepared  the  surprises 
that  arrived,  so  unwelcome  were  the}T,  so  magical  the 
change  they  wrought,  turning  his  happy  world  into  a 
scene  of  desolation  and  despair  as  suddenly  as  a  trans- 
formation at  the  pantomime. 

The  first  came  in  the  morning  when,  duly  armed  with 
costly  bouquets  and  bon-bons,  he  went  to  thank  Minna 
and  her  mother  for  the  braces  embroidered  with  forget- 
me-nots  and  the  silk  socks  knit  by  the  old  lady's  nimble 
fingers,  which  he  had  found  upon  his  table  that  day 


230  JO'S  BOYS. 

"The  Frau  Mamma  received  him  graciously ;  but  when 
he  asked  for  the  daughter  the  good  lady  frankly  de- 
manded what  his  intentions  were,  adding  that  certain 
gossip  which  had  reached  her  ear  made  it  necessary  for 
him  to  declare  himself  or  come  no  more,  as  Minna's 
peace  must  not  be  compromised. 

A  more  panic-stricken  youth  was  seldom  seen  than 
Nat  as  he  received  this  unexpected  demand.  He  saw 
too  late  that  his  American  style  of  gallantry  had  de- 
ceived the  artless  girl,  and  might  be  used  with  terrible 
effect  by  the  artful  mother,  if  she  chose  to  do  it.  Noth- 
ing but  the  truth  could  save  him,  and  he  had  the  honor 
and  honesty  to  tell  it  faithfully.  A  sad  scene  followed  ; 
for  Nat  was  obliged  to  strip  off  his  fictitious  splendor, 
confess  himself  only  a  poor  student,  and  humbl}7  ask 
pardon  for  the  thoughtless  freedom  with  which  he  had 
enjoyed  their  too  confiding  hospitality.  If  he  had  had 
any  doubts  of  Frau  Schomburg's  motives  and  desires, 
they  were  speedily  set  at  rest  by  the  frankness  with 
which  she  showed  her  disappointment,  the  vigor  with 
which  she  scolded  him,  and  the  scorn  with  which  she  cast 
him  off  when  her  splendid  castles  in  the  air  collapsed. 

The  sincerit}^  of  Nat's  penitence  softened  her  a  little, 
and  she  consented  to  a  farewell  word  with  Minna,  who 
had  listened  at  the  key-hole,  and  was  produced  drenched 
in  tears,  to  fall  on  Nat's  bosom,  crying,  u  Ah,  thou 
dear  one,  never  can  I  forget  thee,  though  my  heart  is 
broken !  " 

This  was  worse  than  the  scolding ;  for  the  stout 
lad}'  also  wept,  and  it  was  only  after  much  German 
gush  and  twaddle  that  he  escaped,  feeling  like  another 
Werther;  while   the   deserted   Lotte   consoled   herself 


NATS  NEW   YEAR.  231 

with  the  bon-bons,  her  mother  with  the  more  valuable 
gifts. 

The  second  surprise  arrived  as  he  dined  with  Professor 
Baumgarten.  His  appetite  had  been  effectually  taken 
away  by  the  scene  of  the  morning,  and  his  spirits  re- 
ceived another  damper  when  a  fellow-student  cheerfully 
informed  him  that  he  was  about  to  go  to  America,  and 
should  make  it  his  agreeable  duty  to  call  on  the  ' '  lieber 
Herr  Professor  Bhaer  "  to  tell  him  how  gayly  his  protege 
was  disporting  himself  at  Leipsic.  Nat's  heart  died 
within  him  as  he  imagined  the  effect  these  glowing  tales 
would  have  at  Plumfield,  —  not  that  he  had  wilfully 
deceived  them,  but  in  his  letters  many  things  were 
left  untold ;  and  when  Carlsen  added,  with  a  friendly 
wink,  that  he  would  merely  hint  at  the  coming  betrothal 
of  the  fair  Minna  and  his  "  heart's  friend,"  Nat  found 
himself  devoutly  hoping  that  this  other  inconvenient 
heart's  friend  might  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  before 
he  reached  Plumfield  to  blast  all  his  hopes  by  these 
tales  of  a  misspent  winter.  Collecting  his  wits,  he 
cautioned  Carlsen  with  what  he  flattered  himself  was 
Mephistophelian  art,  and  gave  him  such  confused  di- 
rections that  it  would  be  a  miracle  if  he  ever  found 
Professor  Bhaer.  But  the  dinner  was  spoilt  for  Nat, 
and  he  got  away  as  soon  as  possible,  to  wander  dis- 
consolately about  the  streets,  with  no  heart  for  the 
theatre  or  the  supper  he  was  to  share  with  some  gay 
comrades  afterward.  He  comforted  himself  a  little  by 
giving  alms  to  sundry  beggars,  making  two  children 
happy  with  gilded  gingerbread,  and  drinking  a  lonely 
glass  of  beer,  in  which  he  toasted  his  Daisy  and  wished 
himself  a  better  year  than  the  last  had  been. 


232  JO'S  BOYS. 

Going  home  at  length,  he  found  a  third  surprise  await- 
ing him  in  the  shower  of  bills  which  had  descended  upon 
him  like  a  snow-storm,  burying  him  in  an  avalanche  ol 
remorse,  despair,  and  self-disgust.  These  bills  were  so 
many  and  so  large  that  he  was  startled  and  dismayed  ; 
for,  as  Mr.  Bhaer  wisely  predicted,  he  knew  little  about 
the  value  of  mone}T.  It  would  take  every  dollar  at  the 
banker's  to  pa}T  them  all  at  once,  and  leave  him  penniless 
for  the  next  six  months,  unless  he  wrote  home  for  more. 
He  would  rather  starve  than  do  that ;  and  his  first  im- 
pulse was  to  seek  help  at  the  gaming-table,  whither  his 
new  friends  had  often  tempted  him.  But  he  had  prom- 
ised Mr.  Bhaer  to  resist  what  then  had  seemed  an  im- 
possible temptation  ;  and  now  he  would  not  add  another 
fault  to  the  list  already  so  long.  Borrow  he  would  not, 
nor  beg.  What  could  he  do  ?  For  these  appalling  bills 
must  be  paid,  and  the  lessons  go  on  ;  or  his  journey  was 
an  ignominious  failure.  But  he  must  live  meantime. 
And  how?  Bowed  down  with  remorse  for  the  folly 
of  these  months,  he  saw  too  late  whither  he  was 
drifting,  and  for  hours  paced  up  and  down  his  pretty 
rooms,  floundering  in  a  Slough  of  Despond,  with  no 
helping  hand  to  pull  him  out,  —  at  least  he  thought  so 
till  letters  were  brought  in,  and  among  fresh  bills  lay 
one  well-worn  envelope  with  an  American  stamp  in  the 
corner. 

Ah,  how  welcome  it  was !  how  eagerly  he  read  the 
long  pages  full  of  affectionate  wishes  from  all  at  home  ! 
For  eveiy  one  had  sent  a  line,  and  as  each  familiar  name 
appeared,  his  eyes  grew  dimmer  and  dimmer  till,  as  he 
read  the  last,  —  "  God  bless  my  bo}T !  Mother  Bhaei," 
—  he  broke  down ;   and  laying  his  head  on  his  arms, 


NAT'S  NEW  YEAR.  233 

blistered  the  paper  with  a  rain  of  tears  that  eased  his 
heart  and  washed  away  the  boyish  sins  that  now  lay  so 
heavy  on  his  conscience. 

"Dear  people,  how  they  love  and  trust  me!  And 
how  bitterly  they  would  be  disappointed  if  they  knew 
what  a  fool  I  've  been  !  I  '11  fiddle  in  the  streets  again 
before  I  '11  ask  for  help  from  them !  "  cried  Nat,  brush- 
ing away  the  tears,  of  which  he  was  ashamed,  although 
he  felt  the  good  they  had  done. 

Now  he  seemed  to  see  more  clearly  what  to  do ;  for 
the  helping  hand  had  been  stretched  across  the  sea,  and 
Love,  the  dear  Evangelist,  had  lifted  him  out  of  the 
slough  and  shown  him  the  narrow  gate,  beyond  which 
deliverance  lay.  When  the  letter  had  been  re-read,  and 
one  corner  where  a  daisy  was  painted,  passionately 
kissed,  Nat  felt  strong  enough  to  face  the  worst  and 
conquer  it.  Every  bill  should  be  paid,  every  salable 
thing  of  his  own  sold,  these  costly  rooms  given  up  ;  and 
once  back  with  the  thrifty  Frau  Tetzel,  he  would  find 
work  of  some  sort  by  which  to  support  himself,  as  many 
another  student  did.  He  must  give  up  the  new  friends, 
turn  his  back  on  the  gay  life,  cease  to  be  a  butterfly,  and 
take  his  place  again  among  the  grubs.  It  was  the  only 
honest  thing  to  do,  but  very  hard  for  the  poor  fellow  to 
crush  his  little  vanities,  renounce  the  delights  so  dear 
to  the  young,  own  his  folly,  and  step  down  from  his 
pedestal  to  be  pitied,  laughed  at,  and  forgotten. 

It  took  all  Nat's  pride  and  courage  to  do  this,  for  his 
was  a  sensitive  nature  ;  esteem  was  very  precious  to 
him,  failure  very  bitter,  and  nothing  but  the  inborn  con- 
tempt for  meanness  and  deceit  kept  him  from  asking 
help  or  trying  to  hide  his  need  by  some  dishonest  device. 


284  JO'S  BOYS. 

As  he  sat  alone  that  night,  Mr.  Bhaer's  words  came 
back  to  him  with  curious  clearness,  and  he  saw  himself 
a  boy  again  at  Plumfield,  punishing  his  teacher  as  a 
lesson  to  himself,  when  timidit}-  had  made  him  lie. 

"  He  shall  not  suffer  for  me  again,  and  I  won't  be  a 
sneak  if  I  am  a  fool.  I  '11  go  and  tell  Professor  Baum- 
garten  all  about  it  and  ask  his  advice.  I  'd  rather  face 
a  loaded  cannon  ;  but  it  must  be  done.  Then  I  '11  sell 
out,  pay  my  debts,  and  go  back  where  I  belong.  Better 
be  an  honest  pauper  than  a  jackdaw  among  peacocks  ;  " 
and  Nat  smiled  in  the  midst  of  his  trouble,  as  he  looked 
about  him  at  the  little  elegancies  of  his  room,  remem- 
bering what  he  came  from. 

He  kept  his  word  manfully,  and  was  much  comforted 
to  find  that  his  experience  was  an  old  story  to  the  pro- 
fessor, who  approved  his  plan,  thinking  wisely  that  the 
discipline  would  be  good  for  him,  and  was  very  kind  in 
offering  help  and  promising  to  keep  the  secret  of  his 
folly  from  his  friend  Bhaer  till  Nat  had  redeemed 
himself. 

The  first  week  of  the  new  year  was  spent  by  our 
prodigal  in  earning  out  his  plan  with  penitent  dispatch, 
and  his  birthday  found  him  alone  in  the  little  room  high 
up  at  Frau  Tetzel's,  with  nothing  of  his  former  splendor 
but  sundr}'  unsalable  keepsakes  from  the  buxom  maid- 
ens, who  mourned  his  absence  deeply.  His  male  friends 
had  ridiculed,  pitied,  and  soon  left  him  alone,  with  one 
or  two  exceptions,  who  offered  their  purses  generously 
and  promised  to  stand  by  him.  He  was  lonely  and 
heav}T-hearted,  and  sat  brooding  over  his  small  fire  as 
he  remembered  the  last  New  Year's  Day  at  PlumfieJd, 
when  at  this  hour  he  was  dancing  with  his  Daisy. 


NATS  NEW   YEAR.  235 

A  tap  at  the  door  roused  him,  and  with  a  careless 
"  Herein,"  he  waited  to  see  who  had  climbed  so  far  for 
his  sake.  It  was  the  good  Frau  proudly  bearing  a  traj% 
on  which  stood  a  bottle  of  wine  and  an  astonishing  cake 
bedecked  with  sugar-plums  of  every  hue,  and  crowned 
with  candles.  Fraulein  Vogelstein  followed,  embracing 
a  blooming  rose-tree,  above  which  her  gray  curls  waved 
and  her  friendly  face  beamed  joyfully  as  she  cried,  — 

"  Dear  Herr  Blak,  we  bring  you  greetings  and  a  little 
gift  or  two  in  honor  of  this  ever-to-be-remembered  day. 
Best  wishes  !  and  may  the  new  year  bloom  for  you  as 
beautifully  as  we  your  heart-warm  friends  desire." 

"  Yes,  }Tes,  in  truth  we  do,  dear  Herr,"  added  Frau 
Tetzel.  "  Eat  of  this  with-jo3'-made  Kuchen,  and  drink 
to  the  health  of  the  far-away  beloved  ones  in  the  good 
wine." 

Amused,  yet  touched  by  the  kindness  of  the  good 
souls,  Nat  thanked  them  both,  and  made  them  stay  to 
enjoy  the  humble  feast  with  him.  This  the}T  gladly  did, 
being  motherly  women  full  of  pity  for  the  dear  youth, 
whose  straits  the}^  knew,  and  having  substantial  help 
to  offer,  as  well  as  kind  words  and  creature  comforts. 

Frau  Tetzel,  with  some  hesitation,  mentioned  a  friend 
of  hers  who,  forced  by  illness  to  leave  his  place  in  the 
orchestra  of  a  second-rate  theatre,  would  gladly  offer  it 
to  Nat,  if  he  could  accept  so  humble  a  position.  Blush- 
ing and  toying  with  the  roses  like  a  shy  girl,  good  old 
Vogelstein  asked  if  in  his  leisure  moments  he  could  give 
English  lessons  in  the  young  ladies'  school  where  she 
taught  painting,  adding  that  a  small  but  certain  salary 
Would  be  paid  him. 

Gratefully  Nat  accepted  both  offers,  finding  it  less 


236  JO'S  BOYS. 

humiliating  to  be  helped  by  women  than  by  friends 
of  his  own  sex.  This  work  would  support  him  in  a 
frugal  way,  and  certain  musical  drudgery  promised  by 
his  master  assured  his  own  teaching.  Delighted  with 
the  success  of  their  little  plot,  these  friendly  neighbors 
left  him  with  cheery  words,  warm  hand-grasps,  and 
faces  beaming  with  feminine  satisfaction  at  the  hearty 
kiss  Nat  put  on  each  faded  cheek,  as  the  only  return 
he  could  make  for  all  this  helpful  kindness. 

It  was  strange  how  much  brighter  the  world  looked 
after  that ;  for  hope  was  a  better  cordial  than  the  wine, 
and  good  resolutions  bloomed  as  freshly  as  the  little 
rose-tree  that  filled  the  room  with  fragrance,  as  Nat 
woke  the  echoes  with  the  dear  old  airs,  finding  now  as 
always  his  best  comforter  in  music,  to  whom  henceforth 
he  swore  to  be  a  more  loyal  subject. 


CHAPTER  XIV, 

PLAYS  AT  PLUMFIELD. 

AS  it  is  as  impossible  for  the  humble  historian  of  the 
March  family  to  write  a  story  without  theatricals 
in  it  as  for  our  dear  Miss  Yonge  to  get  on  with  less 
than  twelve  or  fourteen  children  in  her  interesting  tales, 
we  will  accept  the  fact,  and  at  once  cheer  ourselves 
after  the  last  afflicting  events,  by  proceeding  to  the 
Christmas  plays  at  Plumfield ;  for  they  influence  the 
fate  of  several  of  our  characters,  and  cannot  well  be 
skipped. 

When  the  college  was  built  Mr.  Laurie  added  a 
charming  little  theatre  which  not  only  served  for  plays, 
but  declamations,  lectures,  and  concerts.  The  drop- 
curtain  displayed  Apollo  with  the  Muses  grouped  about 
him  ;  and  as  a  compliment  to  the  donor  of  the  h,all  the 
artist  had  given  the  god  a  decided  resemblance  to  our 
friend,  which  was  considered  a  superb  joke  by  every 
one  else.  Home  talent  furnished  stars,  stock  company, 
orchestra,  and  scene-painter  ;  and  astonishing  perform- 
ances were  given  on  this  pretty  little  stage. 

Mrs.  Jo  had  been  tr37ing  for  some  time  to  produce 
a  play  which  should  be  an  improvement  upon  the  adap- 
tations from  the  French  then  in  vogue,  curious  mixtures 


238  JO'S  BOYS. 

of  fine  toilettes,  false  sentiment,  and  feeble  wit,  with 
no  touch  of  nature  to  redeem  them.  It  was  easy  to 
plan  plays  full  of  noble  speeches  and  thrilling  situa- 
tions, but  ver}'  hard  to  write  them  ;  so  she  contented 
herself  with  a  few  scenes  of  humble  life  in  which  the 
comic  and  pathetic  were  mingled ;  and  as  she  fitted  her 
characters  to  her  actors,  she  hoped  the  little  venture 
would  prove  that  truth  and  simplicity  had  not  entirely 
lost  their  power  to  charm.  Mr.  Laurie  helped  her,  and 
they  called  themselves  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  end- 
ing their  joint  labor  very  much  ;  for  Beaumont's  knowl- 
edge of  dramatic  art  was  of  great  use  in  curbing 
Fletcher's  too-aspiring  pen,  and  they  flattered  them- 
selves that  the}r  had  produced  a  neat  and  effective  bit 
of  work  as  an  experiment. 

All  was  read}7  now ;  and  Christmas  Day  was  much 
enlivened  by  last  rehearsals,  the  panics  of  timid  actors, 
the  scramble  for  forgotten  properties,  and  the  decora- 
tion of  the  theatre.  Evergreen  and  holhT  from  the  woods, 
blooming  plants  from  the  hothouse  on  Parnassus,  and 
the  flags  of  all  nations  made  it  very  ga}T  that  night  in 
honor  of  the  guests  who  were  coming,  chief  among  them, 
Miss  Cameron,  who  kept  her  promise  faithfully.  The 
orchestra  tuned  their  instruments  with  unusual  care, 
the  scene-shifters  set  their  stage  with  lavish  elegance, 
the  prompter  heroicall}7  took  his  seat  in  the  stifling  nook 
provided  for  him,  and  the  actors  dressed  with  trembling 
hands  that  dropped  the  pins,  and  perspiring  brows 
whereon  the  powder  would  n't  stick.  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher  were  everywhere,  feeling  that  their  literary 
reputation  was  at  stake ;  for  sundry  friendly  critics 
were   invited,  and   reporters,  like   mosquitoes,  cannot 


PLAYS  AT  PLUMFIELD.  239 

be  excluded  from  any  earthly  scene,  be  it  a  great 
man's  death-bed  or  a  dime  museum. 

"  Has  she  come?  "  was  the  question  asked  by  every 
tongue  behind  the  curtain  ;  and  when  Tom,  who  played 
an  old  man,  endangered  his  respectable  legs  among 
the  footlights  to  peep,  announced  that  he  saw  Miss 
Cameron's  handsome  head  in  the  place  of  honor,  a  thrill 
pervaded  the  entire  company,  and  Josie  declared  with 
an  excited  gasp  that  she  was  going  to  have  stage  fright 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life. 

"  I'll  shake  you  if  you  do,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  who  was  in 
such  a  wild  state  of  dishevelment  with  her  varied  labors 
that  she  might  havti  gone  on  as  Madge  Wildfire,  without 
an  additional  rag  or  crazy  elf-lock. 

"You  '11  have  time  to  get  }Tour  wits  together  while 
we  do  our  piece.  We  are  old  stagers  and  calm  as 
clocks,"  answered  Demi,  with  a  nod  toward  Alice,  ready 
in  her  pretty  dress  and  all  her  properties  at  hand. 

But  both  clocks  were  going  rather  faster  than  usual, 
as  heightened  color,  brilliant  eyes,  and  a  certain  flutter 
under  the  laces  and  velvet  coat  betrayed.  They  were 
to  open  the  entertainment  with  a  gay  little  piece  which 
they  had  played  before  and  did  remarkably  well.  Alice 
was  a  tall  girl,  with  dark  hair  and  eyes,  and  a  face  which 
intelligence,  health,  and  a  happy  heart  made  beautifuL 
She  was  looking  her  best  now,  for  the  brocades,  plumes, 
and  powder  of  the  Marquise  became  her  stately  figure  ; 
and  Demi  in  his  court  suit,  with  sword,  three-cornered 
hat,  and  white  wig,  made  as  gallant  a  Baron  as  one 
would  wish  to  see.  Josie  was  the  maid,  and  looked  her 
part  to  the  life,  being  as  pretty,  pert,  and  inquisitive  aa 
any  French  soubrette.     These  three  were  all  the  char^ 


240  JO'S  BOYS. 

acters ;  and  the  success  of  the  piece  depended  on  the 
spirit  and  skill  with  which  the  quickly  changing  moods 
of  the  quarrelsome  lovers  were  given,  their  witty  speeches 
made  to  tell,  and  the  by-play  suited  to  the  courtly  period 
in  which  the  scene  was  laid. 

Few  would  have  recognized  sober  John  and  studious 
Alice  in  the  dashing  gentleman  and  coquettish  lady,  who 
kept  the  audience  laughing  at  their  caprices  ;  while  they 
enjoyed  the  brilliant  costumes,  and  admired  the  ease  and 
grace  of  the  young  actors.  Josie  was  a  prominent  fig- 
ure in  the  plot,  as  she  listened  at  key-holes,  peeped  into 
notes,  and  popped  in  and  out  at  all  the  most  inoppor- 
tune moments,  with  her  nose  in  the  air,  her  hands  in 
her  apron-pockets,  and  curiosity  pervading  her  little  fig- 
ure from  the  topmost  bow  of  her  jaunty  cap  to  the  red 
heels  of  her  slippers.  All  went  smoothly ;  and  the 
capricious  Marquise,  after  tormenting  the  devoted  Baron 
to  her  heart's  content,  owned  herself  conquered  in  the 
war  of  wits,  and  was  just  offering  the  hand  he  had 
fairly  wTon,  when  a  crash  startled  them,  and  a  heavily 
decorated  side-scene  swayed  forward,  reacVy  to  fall  upon 
Alice.  Demi  saw  it,  and  sprung  before  her  to  catch  and 
hold  it  up,  standing  like  a  modern  Samson  with  the  wall 
of  a  house  on  his  back.  The  danger  was  over  in  a 
moment,  and  he  was  about  to  utter  his  last  speech, 
when  the  excited  }'oung  scene-shifter,  who  had  flown  up 
a  ladder  to  repair  the  damage,  leaned  over  to  whisper, 
"All  right,"  and  release  Demi  from  his  spread-eagle 
attitude  ;  as  he  did  so,  a  hammer  slipped  out  of  his 
pocket,  to  fall  upon  the  upturned  face  below,  inflicting  a 
smart  blow  and  literally  knocking  the  Baron's  part  out 
of  his  head. 


PLAYS  AT  PLUMFIELD.  *±X 

"  A  quick  curtain"  robbed  the  audience  of  a  pretty 
little  scene  not  clown  on  the  bill ;  for  the  Marquise 
flew  to  stanch  the  blood  with  a  cry  of  alarm:  "Oh! 
John,  you  are  hurt !  Lean  on  me  "  —  which  John  gladly 
did  for  a  moment,  being  a  trifle  dazed,  yet  quite  able 
to  enjoy  the  tender  touch  of  the  hands  busied  about 
him  and  the  anxiety  of  the  face  so  near  his  own ;  for 
both  told  him  something  which  he  would  have  consid- 
ered cheaply  won  by  a  rain  of  hammers  and  the  fall 
of  the  whole  college  on  his  head. 

Nan  was  on  the  spot  in  a  moment  with  the  case,  that 
never  left  her  pocket ;  and  the  wound  was  neatly  plas- 
tered up  by  the  time  Mrs.  Jo  arrived,  demanding 
tragically,  — 

"  Is  he  too  much  hurt  to  go  on  again?  If  he  is,  my 
play  is  lost !  " 

"I'm  all  the  fitter  for  it,  Aunty;  for  here's  a 
real  instead  of  a  painted  wound.  I  '11  be  ready ; 
don't  worry  about  me."  And  catching  up  his  wig, 
Demi  was  off,  with  only  a  very  eloquent  look  of 
thanks  to  the  Marquise,  who  hac]  spoilt  her  gloves 
for  his  sake,  but  did  not  seem  to  mind  it  at  all, 
though  they  reached  above  her  elbows,  and  were  most 
expensive. 

"  How  are  your  nerves,  Fletcher?"  asked  Mr.  Laurie 
as  they  stood  together  during  the  breathless  minute 
before  the  last  bell  rings. 

"  About  as  calm  as  yours,  Beaumont,"  answered  Mrs. 
Jo,  gesticulating  wildly  to  Mrs.  Meg  to  set  her  cap 
straight. 

"Bear  up,  partner!  I'll  stand  by  you  whatever 
comes ! " 

16 


242  JOyS  BOYS. 

"  I  feel  that  it  ought  to  go ;  for,  though  it's  a  mere 
trifle,  a  good  deal  of  honest  work  and  truth  have  gone 
into  it.  Does  n't  Meg  look  the  picture  of  a  dear  old 
country  woman?" 

She  certainty  did,  as  she  sat  in  the  farm-house  kitchen 
by  a  cheery  fire,  rocking  a  cradle  and  darning  stockings 
as  if  she  had  done  nothing  else  all  her  life.  Gra}T  hair, 
skilfully  drawn  lines  on  the  forehead,  and  a  plain  gown, 
with  cap,  little  shawl,  and  check  apron,  changed  her 
into  a  comfortable,  motherly  creature  who  found  favor 
the  moment  the  curtain  went  up  and  discovered  her 
rocking,  darning,  and  crooning  an  old  song.  In  a  short 
soliloquy  about  Sam,  her  bo}T,  who  wan:ed  to  enlist ; 
Dolly,  her  discontented  little  daughter,  who  longed  for 
city  ease  and  pleasures;  and  poor  "  Elizy,"  who  had 
married  badly,  and  came  home  to  die,  bequeathing  her 
bab}r  to  her  mother,  lest  its  bad  father  should  claim  it, 
the  little  story  was  very  simply  opened,  and  made 
effective  by  the  real  boiling  of  the  kettle  on  the  crane, 
the  ticking  of  a  tall  clock,  and  the  appearance  of  a  pair 
of  blue  worsted  shoes  which  waved  fitfully  in  the  air  to 
the  soft  babble  of  a  baby's  voice.  Those  shapeless 
little  shoes  won  the  first  applause ;  and  Mr.  Laurie, 
forgetting  elegance  in  satisfaction,  whispered  to  his 
ooadjutor,  — - 

"  I  thought  the  baby  would  fetch  them  !  " 

"  If  the  dear  thing  won't  squall  in  the  wrong  place, 
we  are  saved.  But  it  is  risk}'.  Be  ready  to  catch  it  if 
all  Meg's  cuddlings  prove  in  vain,"  answered  Mrs.  Jo, 
adding,  with  a  clutch  at  Mr.  Laurie's  arm  as  a  haggard 
face  appeared  at  the  window,  — 

"  Here 's  Demi !     I  hope  no  one  will  recognize  him 


PLAYS  AT  PLUMFIELD.  243 

when  he  comes  on  as  the  son.  I  '11  never  forgive  you 
for  not  doing  the  villain  yourself." 

"  Can't  run  the  thing  and  act  too.  He's  capitally 
made  up,  and  likes  a  bit  of  melodrama." 

"  This  scene  ought  to  have  come  later  ;  but  I  wanted 
to  show  that  the  mother  was  the  heroine  as  soon  as 
possible.  I  'm  tired  of  love-sick  girls  and  runaway 
wives.  We  '11  prove  that  there 's  romance  in  old  women 
also.     Now  he  's  coming  !  " 

And  in  slouched  a  degraded-looking  man,  shablrv, 
unshaven,  and  evil-ej'ed,  trying  to  assume  a  masterful 
air  as  he  dismayed  the  tranquil  old  woman  b}-  demand- 
ing his  child.  A  powerful  scene  followed ;  and  Mrs. 
Meg  surprised  even  those  who  knew  her  best  by  the 
homery  dignny  with  which  she  at  first  met  the  man  she 
dreaded ;  then,  as  he  brutally  pressed  his  claim,  she 
pleaded  with  trembling  voice  and  hands  to  keep  the 
little  creature  she  had  promised  the  dying  mother  to 
protect ;  and  when  he  turned  to  take  it  b}T  force,  quite 
a  thrill  went  through  the  house  as  the  old  woman  sprung 
to  snatch  it  from  the  cradle,  and  holding  it  close,  defied 
him  in  God's  name  to  tear  it  from  that  sacred  refuge. 
It  was  really  well  clone  ;  and  the  -round  of  applause  that 
greeted  the  fine  tableau  of  the  indignant  old  woman,  the 
rosy,  blinking  bab}T  clinging  to  her  neck,  and  the  daunted 
man  who  dared  not  execute  his  evil  purpose  with  such 
a  defender  for  helpless  innocence,  told  the  excited  au- 
thors that  their  first  scene  was  a  hit. 

The  second  was  quieter,  and  introduced  Josie  as  a 
bonny  country  lass  setting  the  supper-table  in  a  bad 
humor.  The  pettish  way  in  which  she  slapped  down  the 
plates,  hustled  the  cups,  and  cut  the  big  brown  loaf,  as 


244  JO'S  BOYS. 

she  related  her  girlish  trials  and  ambitions,  was  capital. 
Mrs.  Jo  kept  her  e}'e  on  Miss  Cameron,  and  saw  her 
nod  approval  several  times  at  some  natural  tone  or  ges- 
ture, some  good  bit  of  by-play,  or  a  quick  change  of 
expression  in  the  .young  face,  which  was  as  variable  as 
an  April  da\\  Her  struggle  with  the  toasting-fork  made 
much  merriment ;  so  did  her  contempt  for  the  brown 
sugar,  and  the  relish  with  which  she  sweetened  her  irk- 
some duties  by  eating  it ;  and  when  she  sat,  like  Cin- 
derella, on  the  hearth,  tearfully  watching  the  flames 
dance  on  the  homely  room,  a  girlish  voice  was  heard  to 
exclaim  impulsively,  — 

' '  Poor  little  thing  !  she  ought  to  have  some  fun  !  " 
The  old  woman  enters ;  and  mother  and  daughter 
have  a  prett}T  scene,  in  which  the  latter  coaxes  and 
threatens,  kisses  and  cries,  till  she  wins  the  reluctant 
consent  of  the  former  to  visit  a  rich  relation  in  the  cnVy  ; 
and  from  being  a  little  thunder-cloud  Dolly  becomes 
bewitchingly  gay  and  good,  as  soon  as  her  wilful  wish 
is  granted.  The  poor  old  soul  has  hardly  recovered 
from  this  trial  when  the  son  enters,  in  army  blue, 
tells  he  has  enlisted,  and  must  go.  That  is  a  hard 
blow ;  but  the  patriotic  mother  bears  it  well,  and  not 
till  the  thoughtless  young  folks  have  hastened  away  to 
tell  their  good  news  elsewhere  does  she  break  down. 
Then  the  country  kitchen  becomes  pathetic,  as  the  old 
mother  sits  alone  mourning . over  her  children,  till  the 
gray  head  is  hidden  in  the  hands  as  she  kneels  down 
by  the  cradle  to  weep  and  pray,  with  only  Baby  to 
comfort  her  fond  and  faithful  heart. 

Sniffs  were  audible  all  through  the  latter  part  of  this 
scene ;  and  when  the  curtain  fell,  people  were  so  busy 


PLAYS  AT  PLUMFIELD.  245 

wiping  their  e}Tes  that  for  a  moment  they  forgot  to 
applaud.  That  silent  moment  was  more  flattering  than 
noise ;  and  as  Mrs.  Jo  wiped  the  real  tears  off  her  sis- 
ter's face,  she  said  as  solemnly  as  an  unconscious  dab 
of  rouge  on  her  own  nose  permitted,  — 

"Meg,  you  have  saved  my  play !  Oh,  why  aren't 
you  a  real  actress,  and  I  a  real  playwright?" 

"Don't  gush  now,  dear,  but  help  me  dress  Josie  ; 
she  's  in  such  a  quiver  of  excitement,  I  can't  manage 
her,  and  this  is  her  best  scene,  you  know." 

So  it  was  ;  for  her  aunt  had  written  it  especially  for 
her,  and  little  Jo  was  happy  in  a  gorgeous  dress,  with 
a  train  long  enough  to  satisf}7  her  wildest  dreams.  The 
rich  relation's  parlor  was  in  festival  array,  and  the 
country  cousin  sails  in,  looking  back  at  her  sweeping 
flounces  with  such  artless  rapture  that  no  one  had  the 
heart  to  laugh  at  the  pretty  jay  in  borrowed  plumes. 
She  has  confidences  with  herself  in  the  mirror,  from 
which  it  is  made  evident  that  she  has  discovered  all  is 
not  gold  that  glitters,  and  has  found  greater  temptations 
than  those  a  girlish  love  of  pleasure,  luxury,  and  flat- 
tery bring  her.  She  is  sought  by  a  rich  lover  ;  but  her 
honest  heart  resists  the  allurements  he  offers,  and  in  its 
innocent  perplexity  wishes  ' '  mother "  was  there  to 
comfort  and  counsel. 

A  gay  little  dance,  in  which  Dora,  Nan,  Bess,  and 
several  of  the  boys  took  part,  made  a  good  background 
for  the  humble  figure  of  the  old  woman  in  her  widow's 
bonnet,  rusty  shawl,  big  umbrella,  and  basket.  Her 
naive  astonishment,  as  she  surveys  the  spectacle,  feels 
the  curtains,  and  smooths  her  old  gloves  during  the 
moment  she  remains  unseen,  was  very  good ;  but  Josie's 


246  JO'S  BOYS. 

unaffected  start  when  she  sees  her,  and  the  cry,  "  Why, 
there  's  mother  !  "  was  such  a  hearty  little  bit  of  nature, 
it  hardly  needed  the  impatient  tripping  over  her  train 
as  she  ran  into  the  arms  that  seemed  now  to  be  her 
nearest  refuge. 

The  lover  plays  his  part ;  and  ripples  of  merriment 
greeted  the  old  woman's  searching  questions  and  blunt 
answers  during  the  interview  which  shows  the  girl  how 
shallow  his  love  is,  and  how  near  she  has  been  to  ruin- 
ing her  life  as  bitterly  as  poor  "  EhVv"  did.  She  gives 
her  answer  frankly,  and  when  they  are  alone,  looks 
from  her  own  bedizened  self  to  the  shabby  dress,  work- 
worn  hands,  and  tender  face,  crying  with  a  repentant 
sob  and  kiss,  "Take  me  home,  mother,  and  keep  me 
safe.     I  've  had  enough  of  this  !  " 

"  That  will  do  3011  good,  Maria  ;  don't  forget  it,"  said 
one  lady  to  her  daughter  as  the  curtain  went  down  ;  and 
the  girl  answered,  "  Well,  I  'm  sure  I  don't  see  why  it 's 
touching  ;  but  it  is,"  as  she  spread  her  lace  handkerchief 
to  dry. 

Tom  and  Nan  came  out  strong  in  the  next  scene  ;  for 
it  was  a  ward  in  an  arm}T  hospital,  and  surgeon  and  nurse 
went  from  bed  to  bed,  feeling  pulses,  administering  doses, 
and  hearing  complaints  with  an  energ}-  and  gravity  which 
convulsed  the  audience.  The  tragic  element,  never  far 
from  the  comic  at  such  times  and  places,  came  in  when, 
while  the}'  bandaged  an  arm,  the  doctor  told  the  nurse 
about  an  old  woman  who  was  searching  through  the 
hospital  for  her  son,  after  days  and  nights  on  battle- 
fields, through  ambulances,  and  among  scenes  which 
would  have  killed  most  women. 

"  She  will  be  here  direct!}-,  and  I  dread  her  coming ; 


PLAYS  AT  PLUMFIELD,  247 

for  I  'm  afraid  the  poor  lad  who  has  just  gone  is  her 
boy.  I  'd  rather  face  a  cannon  than  these  brave  women, 
with  their  hope  and  courage  and  great  sorrow,"  says 
the  surgeon. 

"  Ah,  these  poor  mothers  break  my  heart !  "  adds  the 
nurse,  wiping  her  e}Tes  on  her  big  apron  ;  and  with  the 
words  Mrs.  Meg  came  in. 

There  was  the  same  dress,  the  basket  and  umbrella, 
the  rustic  speech,  the  simple  manners  ;  but  all  were  made 
pathetic  by  the  terrible  experience  which  had  changed 
the  tranquil  old  woman  to  that  haggard  figure  with  wild 
eyes,  dusty  feet,  trembling  hands,  and  an  expression  of 
mingled  anguish,  resolution,  and  despair  which  gave  the 
homely  figure  a  tragic  dignity  and  power  that  touched 
all  hearts.  A  few  broken  words  told  the  story  of  her 
vain  search,  and  then  the  sad  quest  began  again. 
People  held  their  breath  as,  led  ~by  the  nurse,  she  went 
from  bed  to  bed,  showing  in  her  face  the  alternations 
of  hope,  dread,  and  bitter  disappointment  as  each  was 
passed.  On  a  narrow  cot  was  a  long  figure  covered 
with  a  sheet,  and  here  she  paused  to  lay  one  hand  on 
her  heart  and  one  on  her  eyes,  as  if  to  gather  courage 
to  look  at  the  nameless  dead.  Then  she  drew  down 
the  sheet,  gave  a  long  shivering  sigh  of  relief,  sajing 
softly,  — 

"Not  my  son,  thank  God!  but  some  mother's 
boy."  And  stooping  down,  she  kissed  the  cold  fore- 
head tenderly. 

Somebody  sobbed  there,  •  and  Miss  Cameron  shook 
two  tears  out  of  her  ej'es,  anxious  to  lose  no  look  or 
gesture  as  the  poor  soul,  nearly  spent  with  the  long 
strain,  struggled  on  down  the  long  line.    But  her  search 


248  JO'S  BOYS. 

was  happily  ended  ;  for,  as  if  her  voice  had  roused  him 
from  his  feverish  sleep,  a  gaunt,  wild-eyed  man  sat  up 
in  his  bed,  and  stretching  his  arms  to  her,  cried  in  a 
voice  that  echoed  through  the  room,  — 

' '  Mother,  mother  !  I  knew  you  'd  come  to  me  !  " 

She  did  go  to  him,  with  a  cry  of  love  and  J03*  that 
thrilled  every  listener,  as  she  gathered  him  in  her  arms 
with  the  tears  and  prayers  and  blessing  such  as  only 
a  fond  and  faithful  old  mother  could  give. 

The  last  scene  was  a  cheerful  contrast  to  this  ;  for  the 
country  kitchen  was  bright  with  Christmas  cheer,  the 
wounded  hero,  with  black  patch  and  crutches  well  dis- 
pla}*ed,  sat  by  the  fire  in  the  old  chair,  whose  familiar 
creak  was  soothing  to  his  ear ;  pretty  Dolly  was  stir- 
ring about,  gayly  trimming  dresser,  settle,  high  chimney- 
piece,  and  old-fashioned  cradle  with  mistletoe  and  holly  ; 
while  the  mother  rested  beside  her  son,  with  that  blessed 
baby  on  her  knee.  Refreshed  by  a  nap  and  nourish- 
ment, this  3Toung  actor  now  covered  himself  with  glory 
by  his  ecstatic  prancings,  incoherent  remarks  to  the 
audience,  and  vain  attempts  to  get  the  footlights,  as 
he  blinked  approvingly  at  these  brilliant  to}'s.  It  was 
good  to  see  Mrs.  Meg  pat  him  on  the  back,  cuddle  the 
fat  legs  out  of  sight,  and  appease  his  vain  longings  with 
a  lump  of  sugar,  till  Baby  embraced  her  with  a  grateful 
ardor  that  brought  him  a  round  of  applause  all  for  his 
little  self. 

A  sound  of  singing  outside  disturbs  the  happy  family, 
and,  after  a  carol  in  the  snowy  moonlight,  a  flock  of 
neighbors  troop  in  with  Christmas  gifts  and  greetings. 
Much  by-play  made  this  a  lively  picture ;  for  Sam's 
sweetheart  hovered  round  him  with  a  tenderness  the 


PLAYS  AT  PLUMFIELD,  249 

Marquise  did  not  show  the  Baron ;  and  Dolly  had  a 
pretty  bit  under  the  mistletoe  with  her  rustic  adorer, 
who  looked  so  like  Ham  Peggotty  in  his  cow-hide  boots, 
rough  jacket,  and  dark  beard  and  wig,  that  no  one 
would  have  recognized  Ted  but  for  the  long  legs,  which 
no  extent  of  leather  could  disguise.  It  ended  with  a 
homely  feast,  brought  by  the  guests ;  and  as  they  sat 
round  the  table  covered  with  doughnuts  and  cheese, 
pumpkin-pie,  and  other  country  delicacies,  Sam  rises  on 
his  crutches  to  propose  the  first  toast,  and  holding  up 
his  mug  of  cider,  sa}Ts,  with  a  salute,  and  a  choke  in  his 
voice,  "  Mother,  God  bless  her!  "  All  drink  it  stand- 
ing, Dolly  with  her  arm  round  the  old  woman's  neck,  as 
she  hides  her  happy  tears  on  her  daughter's  breast ; 
while  the  irrepressible  baby  beat  rapturously  on  the 
table  with  a  spoon,  and  crowed  audibly  as  the  curtain 
went  down. 

The}^  had  it  up  again  in  a  jifiy  to  get  a  last  look  at 
the  group  about  that  central  figure,  which  was  showered 
with  bouquets,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  infant  Roscius  ; 
till  a  fat  rosebud  hit  him  on  the  nose,  and  produced  the 
much-dreaded  squall,  which,  fortunately,  only  added  to 
the  fun  at  that  moment. 

44  Well,  that  will  do  for  a  beginning,"  said  Beaumont, 
with  a  sigh  of  relief,  as  the  curtain  descended  for  the 
last  time,  and  the  actors  scattered  to  dress  for  the 
closing  piece. 

44  As  an  experiment,  it  is  a  success.  Now  we  can  ven- 
ture to  begin  our  great  American  drama,"  answered  Mrs. 
Jo,  full  of  satisfaction  and  grand  ideas  for  the  famous 
play,  — which,  we  may  add,  she  did  not  write  that  year, 
owing  to  various  dramatic  events  in  her  own  family. 


250  JO'S  BOYS* 

1 '  The  Owlsdark  Marbles  "  closed  the  entertainment, 
and,  being  something  new,  proved  amusing  to  this  very 
indulgent  audience.  The  gods  and  goddesses  on  Par- 
nassus were  displayed  in  full  conclave ;  and,  thanks  to 
Mrs.  Amy's  skill  in  draping  and  posing,  the  white  wigs 
and  cotton-flannel  robes  were  classically  correct  and 
graceful,  though  sundry  modern  additions  somewhat 
marred  the  effect,  while  adding  point  to  the  showman's 
learned  remarks.  Mr.  Laurie  was  Professor  Owlsdark, 
in  cap  and  gown  ;  and,  after  a  high-flown  introduction,  he 
proceeded  to  exhibit  and  explain  his  marbles.  The  first 
figure  was  a  stately  Minerva ;  but  a  second  glance  pro- 
duced a  laugh,  for  the  words  "  Woman's  Rights " 
adorned  her  shield,  a  scroll  bearing  the  motto  "  Vote 
early  and  often  "  hung  from  the  beak  of  the  owl  perched 
on  her  lance,  and  a  tin}7  pestle  and  mortar  ornamented 
her  helmet.  Attention  was  drawn  to  the  firm  mouth, 
the  piercing  eye,  the  awe-inspiring  brow,  of  the  strong- 
minded  woman  of  antiquity,  and  some  scathing  remarks 
made  upon  the  degeneracy  of  her  modern  sisters  who 
failed  to  do  their  duty.  Mercury  came  next,  and  was  very 
fine  in  his  airy  attitude,  though  the  winged  legs  quivered 
as  if  it  was  difficult  to  keep  the  lively  god  in  his  place. 
His  restless  nature  was  dilated  upon,  his  mischievous 
freaks  alluded  to,  and  a  very  bad  character  given  to 
the  immortal  messenger-boy  ;  which  delighted  his  friends, 
and  caused  the  marble  nose  of  the  victim  to  curl  visibly 
with  scorn  when  derisive  applause  greeted  a  particularly 
hard  hit.  A  charming  little  Hebe  stood  next,  pouring 
nectar  from  a  silver  teapot  into  a  blue  china  teacup. 
She  also  pointed  a  moral ;  for  the  Professor  explained 
that  the  nectar  of  old  was  the  beverage  which  cheers  but 


PLAYS  AT  PLUMFIELD.  251 

does  not  inebriate,  and  regretted  that  the  excessive  de- 
votion of  American  women  to  this  classic  brew  proved 
so  harmful,  owing  to  the  great  development  of  brain 
their  culture  produced.  A  touch  at  modern  servants,  in 
contrast  to  this  accomplished  table-girl,  made  the  statue's 
cheeks  glow  under  the  chalk,  and  brought  her  a  hearty 
round  as  the  audience  recognized  Dolty  and  the  smart 
soubrette. 

Jove  in  all  his  majesty  followed,  as  he  and  his  wife 
occupied  the  central  pedestals  in  the  half-circle  of  im- 
mortals. A  splendid  Jupiter,  with  hair  well  set  up  off 
the  fine  brow,  ambrosial  beard,  silver  thunderbolts  in 
one  hand,  and  a  well-worn  ferule  in  the  other.  A  large 
stuffed  eagle  from  the  museum  stood  at  his  feet ;  and 
the  benign  expression  of  his  august  countenance  showed 
that  he  was  in  a  good  humor,  —  as  well  he  might  be,  for 
he  was  paid  some  handsome  compliments  upon  his  wise 
rule,  the  peaceful  state  of  his  kingdom,  and  the  brood 
of  all-accomplished  Pallases  that  yearly  issued  from  his 
mighty  brain.  Cheers  greeted  this  and  other  pleasant 
words,  and  caused  the  thunderer  to  bow  his  thanks  ;  for 
"Jove  nods,"  as  every  one  knows,  and  flattery  wins 
the  heart  of  gods  and  men. 

Mrs.  Juno,  with  her  peacocks,  darning-needle,  pen, 
and  cooking-spoon,  did  not  get  off  so  easily  ;  for  the 
Professor  was  down  on  her  with  all  manner  of  mirth- 
provoking  accusations,  criticisms,  and  insults  even.  He 
alluded  to  her  domestic  infelicity,  her  meddlesome  dis- 
position, sharp  tongue,  bad  temper,  and  jealousy,  clos- 
ing, however,  with  a  tribute  to  her  skill  in  caring  for  the 
wounds  and  settling  tne  quarrels  of  belligerent  heroes, 
as  well  as  her  love  for  youths  in  Olympus  and  on  earth. 


252  JO'S  BOYS. 

Gales  of  laughter  greeted  these  hits,  varied  by  hisses 
from  some  indignant  bo}Ts,  who  would  not  bear,  even  in 
joke,  any  disrespect  to  dear  Mother  Bhaer,  who,  how- 
ever, enjoyed  it  all  immensely,  as  the  twinkle  in  her  eye 
and  the  irrepressible  pucker  of  her  lips  betrayed. 

A  jolly  Bacchus  astride  of  his  cask  took  Vulcan's 
place,  and  appeared  to  be  veiy  comfortable  with  a  beer- 
mug  in  one  hand,  a  champagne  bottle  in  the  other,  and 
a  garland  of  grapes  on  his  curly  head.  He  was  the  text 
of  a  short  temperance  lecture,  aimed  directly  at  a  row 
of  smart  3"oung  gentlemen  who  lined  the  walls  of  the 
auditorium.  George  Cole  was  seen  to  dodge  behind  a 
pillar  at  one  point,  Dolly  nudged  his  neighbor  at  another, 
and  there  was  slaughter  all  along  the  line  as  the  Profes- 
sor glared  at  them  through  his  big  glasses,  and  dragged 
their  bacchanalian  orgies  to  the  light  and  held  them  up 
to  scorn. 

Seeing  the  execution  he  had  done,  the  learned  man 
turned  to  the  lovely  Diana,  who  stood  as  white  and  still 
as  the  plaster  stag  beside  her,  with  sandals,  bow,  and 
crescent ;  quite  perfect,  and  altogether  the  best  piece  of 
statnaiy  in  the  show.  She  was  very  tenderty  treated 
b}*  the  paternal  critic,  who,  merely  alluding  to  her  con- 
firmed spinsterhood,  fondness  for  athletic  sports,  and 
oracular  powers,  gave  a  graceful  little  exposition  of  true 
art  and  passed  on  to  his  last  figure. 

This  was  Apollo  in  full  fig,  his  curls  skilfully  arranged 
to  hide  a  well-whitened  patch  over  the  eye,  his  hand- 
some legs  correctly  poised,  and  his  gifted  fingers  about 
to  draw  divine  music  from  the  silvered  gridiron  which 
was  his  lyre.  His  divine  attributes  were  described,  as 
well  as  his  little  follies  and  failings,  among  which  were 


PLAYS   AT  PLUMFIELD.  253 

his  weakness  for  photography  and  flute-playing,  his 
attempts  to  run  a  newspaper,  and  his  fondness  for  the 
society  of  the  Muses ;  which  latter  slap  produced  gig- 
gles and  blushes  among  the  girl-graduates,  and  much 
mirth  among  the  stricken  youths  ;  for  miseiy  loves  com' 
pany,  and  after  this  the}r  began  to  rally. 

Then,  with  a  ridiculous  conclusion,  the  Professor  bowed 
his  thanks  ;  and  after  several  recalls  the  curtain  fell,  but 
not  quickly  enough  to  conceal  Mercu^,  wildly  waving 
his  liberated  legs,  Hebe  dropping  her  teapot,  Bacchus 
taking  a  livel}*  roll  on  his  barrel,  and  Mrs.  Juno  rapping 
the  impertinent  Owlsdark  on  the  head  with  Jove's  ruler. 

While  the  audience  filed  out  to  supper  in  the  hall,  the 
stage  was  a  scene  of  dire  confusion  as  gods  and  god- 
desses, farmers  and  barons,  maids  and  carpenters,  con- 
gratulated one  another  on  the  success  of  their  labors. 
Assuming  various  costumes,  actors  and  actresses  soon 
joined  their  guests,  to  sip  bounteous  draughts  of  praise 
with  their  coffee,  and  cool  their  modest  blushes  with  ice- 
cream. Mrs.  Meg  was  a  proud  and  happ}r  woman  when 
Miss  Cameron  came  to  her  as  she  sat  by  Josie,  with 
Demi  serving  both,  and  said,  so  cordially  that  it  was 
impossible  to  doubt  the  sincerity  of  her  welcome 
words, — 

"  Mrs.  Brooke,  I  no  longer  wonder  where  your  chil- 
dren get  their  talent.  I  make  m}-  compliments  to  the 
Baron,  and  next  summer  you  must  let  me  have  little 
4  Dolly'  as  a  pupil  when  we  are  at  the  beach." 

One  can  easily  imagine  how  this  offer  was  received, 
as  well  as  the  friendly  commendation  bestowed  b}7  the 
same  kind  critic  on  the  work  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 
who  hastened  to  explain   that  this  trifle  was  only  an 


254  JO'S  BOYS. 

attempt  to  make  nature  and  art  go  hand  in  hand,  with 
little  help  from  fine  writing  or  imposing  scenery.  Eve^- 
body  was  in  the  happiest  mood,  especially  "  little  Doll}'," 
who  danced  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp  with  light-footed 
Mercury,  and  Apollo  as  he  promenaded  with  the  Mar- 
quise on  his  arm,  who  seemed  to  have  left  her  coquetry 
in  the  green  room  with  her  rouge. 

When  all  was  over,  Mrs.  Juno  said  to  Jove,  to  whose 
arm  she  clung  as  they  trudged  home  along  the  snowy 
paths,  "  Fritz  dear,  Christmas  is  a  good  time  for  new 
resolutions,  and  I  've  made  one  never  to  be  impatient 
or  fretful  with  my  beloved  husband  again.  I  know  I 
am,  though  you  won't  own  it ;  but  Laurie's  fun  had  some 
truth  in  it,  and  I  felt  hit  in  a  tender  spot.  Henceforth 
I  am  a  model  wife,  else  I  don't  deserve  the  dearest,  best 
man  ever  born  ; "  and  being  in  a  dramatic  mood,  Mrs. 
Juno  tenderly  embraced  her  excellent  Jove  in  the  moon- 
light, to  the  great  amusement  of  sundry  lingerers  behind 
them. 

So  all  three  plays  might  be  considered  successes,  and 
that  merry  Christmas  night  a  memorable  one  in  the 
March  famih' ;  for  Demi  got  an  unspoken  question  an- 
swered, Josie's  fondest  wish  was  granted,  and,  thanks  to 
Professor  Owlsdark's  jest,  Mrs.  Jo  made  Professor 
Bhaer's  busy  life  quite  a  bed  of  roses  by  the  keeping  of 
her  resolution.  A  few  days  later  she  had  her  reward 
for  this  burst  of  virtue  in  Dan's  letter,  which  set  her 
fears  at  rest  and  made  her  very  happy,  though  she  was 
unable  to  tell  him  so,  because  he  sent  her  no  address. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

WAITING. 

i41\  /TY  wife,  I  have  bad  news  for  thee,"  said  Profes- 

-*-▼-*■  sor  Bhaer,  coming  in  one  day  early  in  Januaiy. 

"  Please  tell  it  at  once.  I  can't  bear  to  wait,  Fritz," 
cried  Mrs.  Jo,  dropping  her  work  and  standing  up  as  if 
to  take  the  shot  bravely. 

".But  we  must  wait  and  hope,  heart's-dearest.  Come 
and  let  us  bear  it  together.  Emil's  ship  is  lost,  and  as 
yet  no  news  of  him." 

It  was  well  Mr.  Bhaer  had  taken  his  wife  into  his 
strong  arm,  for  she  looked  ready  to  drop,  but  bore  up 
after  a  moment,  and  sitting  by  her  good  man,  heard  all 
that  there  was  to  tell.  Tidings  had  been  sent  to  the 
ship-owners  at  Hamburg  by  some  of  the  survivors,  and 
telegraphed  at  once  by  Franz  to  his  uncle.  As  one  boat- 
load was  safe,  there  was  hope  that  others  might  also  es- 
cape, though  the  gale  had  sent  two  to  the  bottom.  A 
swift-sailing  steamer  had  brought  these  scanty  news,  and 
happier  ones  might  come  at  any  hour ;  but  kind  Franz 
had  not  added  that  the  sailors  reported  the  captain's 
boat  as  undoubtedly  wrecked  b}^  the  falling  mast,  since 
the  smoke  hid  its  escape,  and  the  gale  soon  drove  all  far 
asunder.   But  this  sad  rumor  reached  Plumfield  in  time  * 


'256  jO'S  BOYS. 

and  deep  was  the  mourning  for  the  happy-hearted  Com- 
modore, never  to  come  singing  home  again. 

Mrs.  Jo  refused  to  believe  it,  stoutly  insisting  that 
Emil  would  outlive  an}T  storm  and  yet  turn  up  safe  and 
gay.  It  was  well  she  clung  to  this  hopeful  view,  for 
poor  Mr.  Bhaer  was  much  afflicted  by  the  loss  of  his 
boy,  because  his  sister's  sons  had  been  his  so  long  he 
scarcely  knew  a  different  love  for  his  very  own.  Now 
was  a  chance  for  Mrs.  Juno  to  keep  her  word  ;  and  she 
did,  speaking  cheerily  of  Emil,  even  when  hope  waxed 
faint  and  her  heart  was  heavy.  If  anything  could  comfort 
the  Bhaers  for  the  loss  of  one  boy,  it  would  have  been  the 
affection  and  the  sorrow  shown  by  all  the  rest.  Franz 
kept  the  cable  bus}T  with  his  varying  messages,  Nat  sent 
loving  letters  from  Leipsic,  and  Tom  harassed  the  ship- 
ping agents  for  news.  Even  bus}r  Jack  wrote  them  with 
unusual  warmth ;  Dolly  and  George  came  often,  bear- 
ing the  loveliest  flowers  and  the  daintiest  bon-bons  to 
cheer  Mrs.  Bhaer  and  sweeten  Josie's  grief;  while  good- 
hearted  Ned  travelled  all  the  way  from  Chicago  to  press 
their  hands  and  sa}-,  with  a  tear  in  his  eye,  "  I  was  so 
anxious  to  hear  all  about  /the  dear  old  boy,  I  could  n't 
keep  away." 

"That's  right  comfortable,  and  shows  me  that  if  I 
did  n't  teach  my  boys  an3Tthing  else,  I  did  give  them  the 
brotherly  love  that  will  make  them  stand  by  one  another 
all  their  lives,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  when  he  had  gone. 

Rob  answered  reams  of  sympathizing  letters,  which 
showed  how  many  friends  they  had ;  and  the  kindly 
praises  of  the  lost  man  would  have  made  Emil  a  hero 
and  a  saint,  had  they  all  been  true.  The  elders  bore  it 
quietly,  having  learned  submission  in  life's  hard  school ; 


WAITING.  257 

but  the  younger  people  rebelled ;  some  hoped  against 
hope  and  kept  up,  others  despaired  at  once,  and  little 
Josie,  Emil's  pet  cousin  and  playmate,  was  so  broken- 
hearted, nothing  could  comfort  her.  Nan  dosed  in  vain, 
Daisy's  cheerful  words  went  by  like  the  wind,  and  Bess's 
devices  to  amuse  her  all  failed  utterly.  To  cry  in 
mother's  arms  and  talk  about  the  wreck,  which  haunted 
her  even  in  her  sleep,  was  all  she  cared  to  do  ;  and  Mrs. 
Meg  was  getting  anxious  when  Miss  Cameron  sent  Josie 
a  kind  note  bidding  her  learn  bravely  her  first  lesson  in 
real  tragedy,  and  be  like  the  self-sacrificing  heroines  she 
loved  to  act.  That  did  the  little  girl  good,  and  she 
made  an  effort,  in  which  Teddy  and  Octoo  helped  her 
much ;  for  the  boy  was  deeply  impressed  by  this  sud- 
den eclipse  of  the  fire-fly  whose  light  and  life  all  missed 
when  they  were  gone,  and  lured  her  out  every  da}T  for 
long  drives  behind  the  black  mare,  who  shook  her  sil~ 
veiT  bells  till  they  made  such  merry  music  Josie  could 
not  help  listening  to  it,  and  whisked  her  over  the  snowy 
roads  at  a  pace  which  set  the  blood  dancing  in  her  veins 
and  sent  her  home  strengthened  and  comforted  by  sun- 
shine, fresh  air,  and  congenial  society,  —  three  aids 
3'oung  sufferers  seldom  can  resist. 

As  Emil  was  helping  nurse  Captain  Hardy,  safe  and 
well  aboard  the  steamer,  all  this  sorrow  would  seem 
wasted ;  but  it  was  not,  for  it  drew  many  hearts  more 
closely  together  by  a  common  grief,  taught  some  pa- 
tience, some  sympathy,  some  regret  for  faults  that  lie 
heavy  on  the  conscience  when  the  one  sinned  against  is 
gone,  and  all  of  them  the  solemn  lesson  to  be  ready 
when  the  summons  comes.  A  hush  lay  over  Plumfield 
for  weeks,  and  the  studious  faces  on  the  hill  reflected 

17 


258  JO'S  BOYS. 

the  sadness  of  those  in  the  valle}r.  Sacred  music 
sounded  from  Parnassus  to  comfort  all  who  heard ;  the 
brown  cottage  was  besieged  with  gifts  for  the  little 
mourner,  and  Emil's  flag  hung  at  half-mast  on  the  roof 
where  he  last  sat  with  Mrs.  Jo. 

So  the  weeks  went  heavily  b}r  till  suddenly,  like  a 
thunderbolt  out  of  a  clear  sky,  came  the  news,  "  All  safe, 
letters  on  the  wa}7."  Then  up  went  the  flag,  out  rang 
the  college-bells,  bang  went  Tedd}T's  long-unused  cannon, 
and  a  chorus  of  happy  voices  cried,  "  Thank  God,"  as 
people  went  about,  laughing,  crying,  and  embracing  one 
another  in  a  rapture  of  delight.  By  and  by  the  longed- 
for  letters  came,  and  all  the  story  of  the  wreck  was  told  ; 
briefly  by  Emil,  eloquently  by  Mrs.  Hardy,  gratefully  by 
the  captain,  while  Maty  added  a  few  tender  words  that 
went  straight  to  their  hearts  and  seemed  the  sweetest  of 
all.  Never  were  letters  so  read,  passed  round,  admired, 
and  cried  over  as  these  ;  for  Mrs.  Jo  carried  them  in  her 
pocket  when  Mr.  Bhaer  did  not  have  them  in  his,  and 
both  took  a  look  at  them  when  they  said  their  prayers  at 
night.  Now  the  Professor  was  heard  humming  like  a  big 
bee  again  as  he  went  to  his  classes,  and  the  lines  smoothed 
out  of  Mother  Bhaer's  forehead,  while  she  wrote  this 
real  story  to  anxious  friends  and  let  her  romances  wait. 
Now  messages  of  congratulation  flowed  in,  and  beaming 
faces  showed  everywhere.  Rob  amazed  his  parents  by 
producing  a  poem  which  was  remarkably  good  for  one 
of  his  3Tears,  and  Demi  set  it  to  music  that  it  might  be 
sung  when  the  sailor  boy  returned.  Teddy  stood  on  his 
head  literally,  and  tore  about  the  neighborhood  on  Octoo, 
like  a  second  Paul  Revere  —  only  his  tidings  were  good. 
But  best  of  all,  little  Josie  lifted  up  her  head  as  the 


WAITING.  259 

snowdrops  did,  and  began  to  bloom  again,  growing  tall 
and  quiet,  with  the  shadow  of  past  sorrow  to  tone  down 
her  former  vivacity  and  show  that  she  had  learned  a 
lesson  in  trying  to  act  well  her  part  on  the  real  stage, 
where  all  have  to  take  their  share  in  the  great  drama  of 
life. 

Now  another  sort  of  waiting  began ;  for  the  travel- 
lers were  on  their  way  to  Hamburg,  and  would  stay 
there  awhile  before  coming  home,  as  Uncle  Hermann 
owned  the  "  Brenda,"  and  the  captain  must  report  to 
him.  Emil  must  remain  to  Franz's  wedding,  deferred 
till  now  because  of  the  season  of  mourning,  so  happily 
ended.  These  plans  were  doubly  welcome  and  pleas- 
ant after  the  troublous  times  which  went  before,  and 
no  spring  ever  seemed  so  beautiful  as  this  one  ;  for,  as 
Teddy  put  it, 

"Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent 
Made  glorious  summer  by  these  sons  of  Bhaer  !  "  — 

Franz  and  Emil  being  regarded  in  the  light  of  elder 
brothers  by  the  real  "  sons  of  Bhaer." 

There  was  great  scrubbing  and  dusting  among  the 
matrons  as  the}'  set  their  houses  in  order  not  only  for 
Class  Day,  but  to  receive  the  bride  and  groom,  who 
were  to  come  to  them  for  the  honeymoon  trip.  Great 
plans  were  made,  gifts  prepared,  and  much  joy  felt  at 
the  prospect  of  seeing  Franz  again ;  though  Emil,  who 
was  to  accompany  them,  would  be  the  greater  hero. 
Little  did  the  dear  souls  dream  what  a  surprise  was  in 
store  for  them,  as  they  innocently  laid  their  plans  and 
wished  all  the  bo}Ts  could  be  there  to  welcome  home 
their  eldest  and  their  Casabianca. 


260  JO'S  BOYS. 

While  they  wait  and  work  so  happily,  let  us  see  how 
our  other  absent  boys  are  faring  as  they  too  wait  and 
work  and  hope  for  better  da}'S.  Nat  was  toiling  stead- 
uy  along  the  path  he  had  wisely  chosen,  though  it  was 
by  no  means  strewn  with  flowers,  —  quite  thorny  was 
it,  in  fact,  and  hard  to  travel,  after  the  taste  of  ease 
and  pleasure  he  had  got  when  nibbling  at  forbidden  fruit. 
But  his  crop  of  wild  oats  was  a  light  one,  and  he  reso- 
lutely reaped  what  he  had  sowed,  finding  some  good 
wheat  among  the  tares.  He  taught  b}~  day  ;  he  fiddled 
night  after  night  in  the  dingy  little  theatre,  and  he 
studied  so  diligently  that  his  master  was  well  pleased, 
and  kept  him  in  mind  as  one  to  whom  preferment  was 
due,  if  any  chance  occurred.  Ga}T  friends  forgot  him  ; 
but  the  old  ones  stood  fast,  and  cheered  him  up  when 
Heimiceh  and  weariness  made  him  sad.  As  spring 
came  on  things  mended,  —  expenses  grew  less,  work 
pleasanter,  and  life  more  bearable  than  when  wintry 
storms  beat  on  his  thinly  clad  back,  and  frost  pinched 
the  toes  that  patiently  trudged  in  old  boots.  No  debts 
burdened  him  ;  the  3Tear  of  absence  was  nearly  over ; 
and  if  he  chose  to  sta}T,  Herr  Bergmann  had  hopes  for 
him  that  would  bring  independence  for  a  time  at  least. 
So  he  walked  under  the  lindens  with  a  lighter  heart, 
and  in  the  May  evenings  went  about  the  city  with  a 
band  of  strolling  students,  making  music  before  houses 
where  he  used  to  sit  as  guest.  No  one  recognized  him 
in  the  darkness,  though  old  friends  often  listened  to 
the  band ;  and  once  Minna  threw  him  money,  which  he 
humbly  received  as  part  of  his  penance,  being  morbid 
on  the  subject  of  his  sins. 

His  reward  came  sooner  than  he  expected,  and  was 


WAITING.  261 

greater  than  he  deserved,  he  thought,  though  his  heart 
leaped  with  joy  when  his  master  one  day  informed  him 
that  he  was  chosen,  with  several  other  of  his  most 
promising  pupils,  to  join  the  musical  society  which  was 
to  take  part  in  the  great  festival  in  London  the  next 
July.  Here  was  not  only  honor  for  the  violinist  but 
happiness  for  the  man,  as  it  brought  him  nearer  home, 
and  would  open  a  chance  of  further  promotion  and  profit 
in  his  chosen  profession. 

"Make  tlryself  useful  to  Bachmeister  there  in  Lon- 
don with  thy  English,  and  if  all  goes  well  with  him,  he 
will  be  glad  to  take  thee  to  America,  whither  he  goes 
in  the  early  autumn  for  winter  concerts.  Thou  hast 
done  well  these  last  months,  and  I  have  hopes  of 
thee." 

As  the  great  Bergmann  seldom  praised  his  pupils, 
these  words  filled  Nat's  soul  with  pride  and  joy,  and  he 
worked  yet  more  diligently  than  before  to  fulfil  his 
master's  prophecj'.  He  thought  the  trip  to  England 
happiness  enough,  but  found  room  for  more  when,  early 
in  June,  Franz  and  Emil  paid  him  a  filing  visit,  bring- 
ing all  sorts  of  good  news,  kind  wishes,  and  comfortable 
gifts  for  the  lonely  fellow,  who  could  have  fallen  on 
their  necks  and  cried  like  a  girl  at  seeing  his  old  mates 
again.  How  glad  he  was  to  be  found  in  his  little  room 
busy  at  his  proper  work,  not  living  like  an  idle  gentle- 
man on  borrowed  mone}' !  How  proud  he  was  to  tell 
his  plans,  assure  them  that  he  had  no  debts,  and  re- 
ceive their  praises  for  his  improvement  in  music,  their 
respect  for  his  economy  and  steadfastness  m  well- 
doing !  How  relieved  when,  having  honestly  confessed 
his  shortcomings,  they  only  laughed,  and  owned  that 


262  JO'S  BOYS. 

they  also  had  known  like  experiences,  and  were  the  wiser 
for  them.  He  was  to  go  to  the  wedding  late  in  June,  and 
join  his  comrades  in  London.  As  best  man,  he  could 
not  refuse  the  new  suit  Franz  insisted  on  ordering  for 
him ;  and  a  check  from  home  about  that  time  made  him 
feel  like  a  millionnaire,  —  and  a  happy  one  ;  for  this  was 
accompanied  by  such  kind  letters  full  of  delight  in  his 
success,  he  felt  that  he  had  earned  it,  and  waited  for 
his  jo}'ful  holiday  with  the  impatience  of  a  boy. 

Dan  meantime  was  also  counting  the  weeks  till  Au- 
gust, when,  he  would  be  free.  But  neither  marriage- 
bells  nor  festival  music  awaited  him  ;  no  friends  would 
greet  him  as  he  left  the  prison  ;  no  hopeful  prospect  lay 
before  him  ;  no  happ}-  home-going  was  to  be  his.  Yet 
his  success  was  far  greater  than  Nat's,  though  onry  God 
and  one  good  man  saw  it.  It  was  a  hard-won  battle ; 
but  he  would  never  have  to  fight  so  terrible  a  one  again  ; 
for,  though  enemies  would  still  assail  him  from  within 
and  from  without,  he  had  found  the  little  guide-book 
that  Christian  carried  in  his  bosom,  and  Love,  Peni- 
tence, and  Prayer,  the  three  sweet  sisters,  had  given 
him  the  armor  which  would  keep  him  safe.  He  had  not 
learned  to  wear  it  yet,  and  chafed  against  it,  though  he 
felt  its  value,  thanks  to  the  faithful  friend  who  had  stood 
by  him  all  that  bitter  }Tear. 

Soon  he  was  to  be  free  again,  worn  and  scarred  in  the 
f'-a}T,  but  out  among  men  in  the  blessed  sun  and  air. 
When  he  thought  of  it  Dan  felt  as  if  he  could  not  wait, 
but  must  burst  that  narrow  cell  and  fly  away,  as  the 
caddis-worms  he  used  to  watch  Irv  the  brookside  shed 
their  stony  coffins,  to  climb  the  ferns  and  soar  into  the 
sky.     Night  after  night  he  lulled  himself  to  sleep  with 


WAITING.  263 

planning  how^  when  he  had  seen  Mary  Mason  accord- 
ing to  his  promise,  he  would  steer  straight  for  his  old 
friends,  the  Indians,  and  in  the  wilderness  hide  his  dis- 
grace and  heal  his  wounds.  Working  to  save  the  many 
would  atone  for  the  sin  of  killing  one,  he  thought ;  and 
the  old  free  life  would  keep  him  safe  from  the  tempta- 
tions that  beset  him  in  cities. 

"By  and  by,  when  I'm  all  right  again,  and  have 
something  to  tell  that  I  'm  not  ashamed  of,  I  '11  go 
home,"  he  said,  with  a  quicker  beat  of  the  impetuous 
heart  that  longed  to  be  there  so  intensely,  he  found 
it  as  hard  to  curb  as  one  of  his  unbroken  horses  on  the 
plains.  "  Not  }Tet.  I  must  get  over  this  first.  They  'd 
see  and  smell  and  feel  the  prison  taint  on  me,  if  I  went 
now,  and  I  could  n't  look  them  in  the  face  and  hide  the 
truth.  I  can't  lose  Ted's  love,  Mother  Bhaer's  confi- 
dence, and  the  respect  of —  of —  the  girls,  —  for  they  did 
respect  my  strength,  any  way  ;  but  now  they  would  n't 
touch  me."  And  poor  Dan  looked  with  a  shudder  at 
the  brown  fist  he  clinched  involuntarily  as  he  remembered 
what  it  had  done  since  a  certain  little  white  hand  had 
laid  in  it  confidingly.  "I'll  make  'em  proud  of  me 
3Tet ;  and  no  one  shall  ever  know  of  this  awful  year.  I 
can  wipe  it  out,  and  I  will,  so  help  me  God  I "  And 
the  clinched  hand  was  held  up  as  if  to  take  a  solemn 
oath  that  this  lost  }-ear  should  yet  be  made  good,  if 
resolution  and  repentance  could  work  the  miracle. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

IN  THE   TENNIS   COURT. 

ATHLETIC  sports  were  in  high  favor  at  Plumfield ; 
and  the  river,  where  the  old  punt  used  to  wabble 
about  with  a  cargo  of  small  boys,  or  echo  to  the  shrill 
screams  of  little  girls  trying  to  get  lilies,  now  was  alive 
with  boats  of  all  kinds,  from  the  slender  wherry  to  the 
trim  pleasure-craft,  gay  with  cushions,  awnings,  and 
fluttering  pennons.  Every  one  rowed,  and  the  girls  as 
well  as  the  youths  had  their  races,  and  developed  their 
muscles  in  the  most  scientific  manner.  The  large,  level 
meadow  near  the  old  willow  was  now  the  college  pla}T- 
ground,  and  here  base-ball  battles  raged  with  fury, 
varied  by  foot-ball,  leaping,  and  kindred  sports  fitted  to 
split  the  fingers,  break  the  ribs,  and  strain  the  backs  of 
the  too  ambitious  participants.  The  gentler  pastimes 
of  the  damsels  were  at  a  safe  distance  from  this  Champ 
de  Mars ;  croquet  mallets  clicked  under  the  elms  that 
fringed  the  field,  racquets  rose  and  fell  energetically  in 
several  tennis  courts,  and  gates  of  different  heights  were 
hand}^  to  practise  the  graceful  bound  by  which  every 
girl  expected  to  save  her  life  some  day  when  the  mad 
bull,  which  was  alwa}rs  coming  but  never  seemed  to 
arrive,  should  be  bellowing  at  her  heels* 


IN  THE   TENNIS   COURT*  265 

One  of  these  tennis  grounds  was  called  "  Jo's  Court," 
and  here  the  little  lady  ruled  like  a  queen  ;  for  she  was 
fond  of  the  game,  and  being  bent  on  developing  her 
small  self  to  the  highest  degree  of  perfection,  she  was  to 
be  found  at  every  leisure  moment  with  some  victim  hard 
at  it.  On  a  certain  pleasant  Saturday  afternoon  she 
had  been  playing  with  Bess  and  beating  her  ;  for,  though 
more  graceful,  the  Princess  was  less  active  than  her 
cousin,  and  cultivated  her  roses  by  quieter  methods. 

"Oh,  dear!  you  are  tired,  and  every  blessed  boy  is 
at  that  stupid  base-ball  match.  What  shall  I  do?" 
sighed  Josie,  pushing  back  the  great  red  hat  she  wore, 
and  gazing  sadly  round  her  for  more  worlds  to  conquer. 

"  I  '11  play  presently,  when  I  'm  a  little  cooler.  But  it 
is  dull  work  for  me,  as  I  never  win,"  answered  Bess, 
fanning  herself  with  a  large  leaf. 

Josie  was  about  to  sit  down  beside  her  on  the  rustic 
seat  and  wait,  when  her  quick  e}-e  saw  afar  off  two 
manly  forms  arrayed  in  white  flannel ;  their  blue  legs 
seemed  bearing  them  toward  the  battle  going  on  in  the 
distance ;  but  they  never  reached  the  fray ;  for,  with  a 
cry  of  joy,  Jo  raced  away  to  meet  them,  bent  on  securing 
this  heaven-sent  reinforcement.  Both  paused  as  she 
came  flying  up,  and  both  raised  their  hats  ;  but  oh,  the 
difference  there  was  in  the  salutes !  The  stout  youth 
pulled  his  off  lazily  and  put  it  on  again  at  once,  as  if 
glad  to  get  the  duty  over ;  the  slender  being,  with  the 
crimson  tie,  lifted  his  with  a  graceful  bend,  and  held  it 
aloft  while  he  accosted  the  rosy,  breathless  maid,  thus 
permitting  her  to  see  his  raven  locks  smoothly  parted, 
with  one  little  curl  upon  the  brow.  Dolly  prided  himself 
upon  that  bow,  and  practised  it  before  his  glass,  but  did 


266  JO'S  BOYS. 

not  bestow  it  upon  all  alike,  regarding  it  as  a  work  of 
art,  fit  only  for  the  fairest  and  most  favored  of  his 
female  admirers  ;  for  he  was  a  pretty  youth,  and  fancied 
himself  an  Adonis. 

Eager  Josie  evidently  did  not  appreciate  the  honor  he 
did  her,  for  with  a  nod  she  begged  them  both  to  ' '  come 
along  and  play  tennis,  not  go  and  get  all  hot  and  dirty 
with  the  boys."  These  two  adjectives  won  the  day  ;  for 
Stuffy  was  already  warmer  than  he  liked  to  be,  and 
Dolly  had  on  a  new  suit  which  he  desired  to  keep  im- 
maculate as  long  as  possible,  conscious  that  it  was  very 
becoming. 

"  Charmed  to  oblige,"  answered  the  polite  one,  with 
another  bend. 

"You  play,  I'll  rest,"  added  the  fat  boy,  yearning 
for  repose  and  gentle  converse  with  the  Princess  in  the 
cooling  shade. 

"  Well,  you  can  comfort  Bess,  for  I  've  beaten  her  all 
to  bits  and  she  needs  amusing.  I  know  you've  got 
something  nice  in  your  pocket,  George  ;  give  her  some, 
and  'Dolphus  can  have  her  racquet.  Now  then,  fly 
round  ;  "  and  driving  her  prey  before  her,  Josie  returned 
in  triumph  to  the  court. 

Casting  himself  ponderously  upon  the  bench,  which 
creaked  under  his  weight,  Stuffy  —  as  we  will  continue 
to  call  him,  though  no  one  else  dared  use  the  old  name 
now — promptly  produced  the  box  of  confectionery,  with- 
out which  he  never  travelled  far,  and  regaled  Bess  with 
candied  violets  and  other  dainties,  while  Dolly  worked 
hard  to  hold  his  own  against  a  most  accomplished  antag- 
onist. He  would  have  beaten  if  an  unlucky  stumble, 
which  produced  an  unsightly  stain  upon  the   knee  of 


IN  THE   TENNIS   COURT.  267 

those  new  shorts,  had  not  distracted  his  mind  and  made 
him  careless.  Much  elated  at  her  victory,  Josie  per- 
mitted him  to  rest,  and  offered  ironical  consolation  for 
the  mishap  which  evidently  weighed  upon  his  mind. 

"  Don't  be  an  old  Betty ;  it  can  be  cleaned.  You 
must  have  been  a  cat  in  some  former  state,  you  are  so 
troubled  about  dirt ;  or  a  tailor,  and  lived  for  clothes." 

"Come  now,  don't  hit  a  fellow  when  he  is  down," 
responded  Dolly  from  the  grass  where  he  and  Stuffy 
now  lay  to  make  room  for  both  girls  on  the  seat.  One 
handkerchief  was  spread  under  him,  and  his  elbow  leaned 
upon  another,  while  his  eyes  were  sadly  fixed  upon  the 
green  and  brown  spot  which  afflicted  him.  "  I  like  to 
be  neat ;  don't  think  it  civil  to  cut  about  in  old  shoes 
and  gray  flannel  shirts  before  ladies.  Our  fellows  are 
gentlemen,  and  dress  as  such,"  he  added,  rather  nettled 
at  the  word  ' ;  tailor  ;  "  for  he  owed  one  of  those  too  at- 
tractive persons  an  uncomfortably  big  bill. 

"  So  are  ours  ;  but  good  clothes  alone  don't  make  a 
gentleman  here.  We  require  a  good  deal  more,"  flashed 
Josie,  in  arms  at  once  to  defend  her  college.  "  You  will 
hear  of  some  of  the  men  in  '  old  boots  and  gray  flannel ' 
when  you  and  3-our  fine  gentlemen  are  twiddling  your 
ties  and  scenting  your  hair  in  obscurity.  I  like  old 
boots  and  wear  them,  and  I  hate  dandies ;  don't  you, 
Bess?" 

"Not  when  they  are  kind  to  me,  and  belong  to  our 
old  set,"  answered  Bess,  with  a  nod  of  thanks  to  Dolly, 
who  was  carefully  removing  an  inquisitive  caterpillar 
from  one  of  her  little  russet  shoes. 

."  I  like  a  lady  who  is  always  polite,   and  doesn't 
snap  a  man's  head  off  if  he  has  a  mind  of  his  own  ;  don't 


268  JO'S  BOYS. 

you,  George?  "  asked  Dolty,  with  his  best  smile  for  Bess 
and  a  Harvard  stare  of  disapprobation  for  Josie. 

A  tranquil  snore  was  Stuffy's  sole  reply,  and  a  general 
laugh  restored  peace  for  the  moment.  But  Josie  loved 
to  harass  the  lords  of  creation  who  asserted  themselves 
too  much,  and  bided  her  time  for  another  attack  till  she 
had  secured  more  tennis.  She  got  another  game ;  for 
Dolry  was  a  sworn  knight  of  dames,  so  he  obe3'ed  her 
call,  leaving  Bess  to  sketch  George  as  he  la}T  upon  his 
back,  his  stout  legs  crossed,  and  his  round  red  face 
partially  eclipsed  by  his  hat.  Josie  got  beaten  this  time, 
and  came  back  rather  cross,  so  she  woke  the  peaceful 
sleeper  by  tickling  his  nose  with  a  straw  till  he  sneezed 
himself  into  a  sitting  posture,  and  looked  wrathfully 
about  for  "  that  confounded  fly." 

"  Come,  sit  up  and  let  us  have  a  little  elegant  con 
versation  ;  you  '  howling  swells  '  ought  to  improve  our 
minds  and  manners,  for  we  are  only  poor  '  country 
girls  in  dowdy  gowns  and  hats,' "  began  the  gad-fly, 
opening  the  battle  with  a  sly  quotation  from  one  of 
Dolly's  unfortunate  speeches  about  certain  studious 
damsels  who  cared  more  for  books  than  finery. 

"  I  did  n't  mean  3'ou  !  Your  gowns  are  all  right,  and 
those  hats  the  latest  thing  out,"  began  poor  'Dolphus, 
convicting  himself  by  that  incautious  exclamation. 

"  Caught  you  that  time  ;  I  thought  3-011  fellows  were 
all  gentlemen,  civil  as  well  as  nice.  But  3-ou  are  always 
sneering  at  girls  who  don't  dress  well,  and  that  is  a  very 
unmanl3T  thing  to  do  ;  nry  mother  said  so  ; "  and  Josie  felt 
that  she  had  dealt  a  shrewd  blow  at  the  elegant  3-outh 
who  bowed  at  many  shrines  if  the3T  were  well-decorated 
ones. 


IN  THE   TENNIS   COURT.  269 

61  Got  you  there,  old  boy,  and  she  's  right.  You  never 
hear  me  talk  about  clothes  and  such  twaddle,"  said 
Stuffy,  suppressing  a  yawn,  and  feeling  for  another  bon- 
bon wherewith  to  refresh  himself. 

"  You  talk  about  eating,  and  that  is  even  worse  for  a 
man.  You  will  marry  a  cook  and  keep  a  restaurant 
some  day,"  laughed  Josie,  down  on  him  at  once. 

This  fearful  prediction  kept  him  silent  for  several 
moments ;  but  Dolly  rallied,  and  wisely  changing  the 
subject,  carried  the  war  into  the  enemy's  camp. 

"  As  you  wanted  us  to  improve  3'our  manners,  allow 
me  to  say  that  young  ladies  in  good  society  don't  make 
personal  remarks  or  deliver  lectures.  Little  girls  who 
are  not  out  do  it,  and  think  it  witty ;  but  I  assure  you 
it 's  not  good  form." 

Josie  paused  a  moment  to  recover  from  the  shock  of 
being  called  "  a  little  girl,"  when  all  the  honors  of  her 
fourteenth  birthday  were  fresh  upon  her  ;  and  Bess  said, 
in  the  lofty  tone  which  was  infinitely  more  crushing 
than  Jo's  impertinence,  — 

"  That  is  true ;  bat  we  have  lived  all  our  lives  with 
superior  people,  so  we  have  no  society  talk  like  your 
young  ladies.  We  are  so  accustomed  to  sensible  con' 
versation,  and  helping  one  another  by  telling  our  faults, 
that  we  have  no  gossip  to  offer  you." 

When  the  Princess  reproved,  the  boys  seldom  resented 
it;  so  Dolly  held  his  peace,  and  Josie  burst  out,  fol- 
lowing her  cousin's  lead,  which  she  thought  a  happy 
one,  — 

"  Our  boys  like  to  have  us  talk  with  them,  and  take 
kindly  any  hints  we  give.  They  don't  think  they  know 
everything  and  are  quite  perfect  at  eighteen,  as  I've 


270  JO'S  BOYS. 

observed  the  Harvard  men  do,  especially  the  very  young 
ones." 

Josie  took  immense  satisfaction  in  that  return  shot ; 
and  Dolly  showed  that  he  was  hit,  by  the  nettled  tone 
in  which  he  answered,  with  a  supercilious  glance  at 
the  hot,  dusty,  and  noisy  crowd  on  the  base  ball 
ground, — 

"  The  class  of  fellows  37ou  have  here  need  all  the 
polish  and  culture  }tou  can  give  them ;  and  I  'm  glad 
the}T  get  it.  Our  men  are  largely  from  the  best  families 
all  over  the  country,  so  we  don't  need  girls  to  teach  us 
anything.'' 

"It's  a  pity  you  don't  have  more  of  such  '  fellows* 
as  ours.  The}'  value  and  use  well  what  college  gives 
them,  and  are  n't  satisfied  to  slip  through,  getting  all 
the  fun  they  can  and  shirking  the  work.  Oh,  I  've 
heard  }Tou  4  men '  talk,  and  heard  your  fathers  sa}r  they 
wish  they  had  n't  wasted  time  and  mone}'  just  that  you 
might  say  jtou  'd  been  through  college.  As  for  the 
girls,  3tou  '11  be  much  better  off  in  all  ways  when  they 
do  get  in,  and  keep  you  lazy  things  up  to  the  mark,  as 
we  do  here." 

"  If  3'ou  have  such  a  poor  opinion  of  us,  wh}T  do  you 
wear  our  color?"  asked  Dotty,  painfully  conscious  that 
he  was  not  improving  the  advantages  his  Alma  Mater 
offered  him,  but  bound  to  defend  her. 

"I  don't;  my  hat  is  scarlet,  not  crimson.  Much 
you  know  about  color,"  scoffed  Josie. 

' '  I  know  that  a  cross  cow  would  soon  set  }t>u  scam- 
pering, if  you  flaunted  that  red  tile  under  her  nose," 
retorted  Dolty. 

M  I  'm  ready  for  her.     Can  your  fine  young  ladies  do 


IN  THE   TENNIS   COURT.  271 

this?  or  you  either? "  and  burning  to  display  her  latest 
accomplishment,  Josie  ran  to  the  nearest  gate,  put  one 
hand  on  the  top  rail,  and  vaulted  over  as  lightly  as  a 
bird. 

Bess  shook  her  head,  and  Stuffy  languidly  applauded  ; 
but  Dolly,  scorning  to  be  braved  by  a  girl,  took  a  flying 
leap  and  landed  on  his  feet  beside  Josie,  saying  calmly,  — 

44  Can  you  do  that?" 

"  Not  yet ;  but  I  will  by  and  by." 

As  his  foe  looked  a  little  crestfallen,  Dolly  relented, 
and  affably  added  sundry  feats  of  a  like  nature,  quite 
unconscious  that  he  had  fallen  into  a  dreadful  snare  ; 
for  the  dull  red  paint  on  the  gate,  not  being  used 
to  such  vigorous  handling,  came  off  in  streaks  upon 
his  shoulders  when  he  turned  a  backward  swing  and 
came  up  smiling,  to  be  rewarded  with  the  aggravating 
remark,  — 

"  If  you  want  to  know  what  crimson  is,  look  at  your 
back ;  it 's  nicely  stamped  on  and  won't  wash  out,  I 
think." 

"  The  deuce  it  won't !  "  cried  Dolly,  trj'ing  to  get  an 
impossible  view,  and  giving  it  up  in  great  disgust. 

"I  guess  we'd  better  be  going,  Dolf,"  said  peace- 
able Stuffj7,  feeling  that  it  would  be  wise  to  retreat  be- 
fore another  skirmish  took  place,  as  his  side  seemed  to 
be  getting  the  worst  of  it. 

"  Don't  hurry,  I  beg  ;  stay  and  rest ;  you  must  need 
it  after  the  tremendous  amount  of  brain  work  3Tou  've 
done  this  week.  It  is  time  for  our  Greek.  Come,  Bess. 
Good  afternoon,  gentlemen?'  And,  with  a  sweeping 
courtesy,  Josie  led  the  way,  with  her  hat  belligerently 
cocked  up,  and   her  racquet   borne  like  a   triumphal 


272  JO'S  BOYS. 

banner  over  one  shoulder  ;  for  having  had  the  last  word, 
she  felt  that  she  could  retire  with  the  honors  of  war. 

Dolly  gave  Bess  his  best  bow,  with  the  chill  on ;  and 
Stuffy  subsided  luxuriously,  with  his  legs  in  the  air, 
murmuring  in  a  dreamy  tone,  — 

"  Little  Jo  is  as  cross  as  two  sticks  to-day.  I  'm  go- 
ing in  for  another  nap  :  too  hot  to  pla}*  anything." 

"  So  it  is.  Wonder  if  Spitfire  was  right  about  these 
beastty  spots  ?  "  And  Dolly  sat  down  to  try  dry  cleans- 
ing with  one  of  his  handkerchiefs.  -'  Asleep?"  he 
asked,  after  a  few  moments  of  this  cheerful  occupation, 
fearing  that  his  chum  might  be  too  comfortable  when 
he  was  in  a  fume  himself. 

"No.  I  was  thinking  that  Jo  wasn't  far  wrong 
about  shirking.  'T  is  a  shame  to  get  so  little,  when  we 
ought  to  be  grinding  like  Morton  and  Tony  and  that  lot. 
I  never  wanted  to  go  to  college  ;  but  my  governor  made 
me.  Much  good  it  will  do  either  of  us ! "  answered 
Stuff}*,  with  a  groan ;  for  he  hated  work,  and  saw  two 
more  long  years  of  it  before  him. 

"  Gives  a  man  prestige,  you  know.  No  need  to  dig. 
I  mean  to  have  a  gay  old  time,  and  be  a  -  howling 
swell,'  if  I  choose.  Between  you  and  me  though,  it 
would  be  no  end  jolly  to  have  the  girls  along.  Study 
be  hanged  !  But  if  we  Ve  got  to  turn  the  grindstone,  it 
would  be  might}*  nice  to  have  some  of  the  little  dears  to 
lend  a  hand.     Would  n't  it  now?" 

"  I  'd  like  three  this  minute,  —  one  to  fan  me,  one  to 
kiss  me,  and  one  to  give  me  some  iced  lemonade ! " 
sighed  Stuffy,  with  a  yearning  glance  toward  the  house, 
whence  no  succor  appeared. 

-' How  would  root-beer  do?  "asked  a  voice  behind 


IN   THE   TENNIS   COURT,  273 

them,  which  made  Dolly  spring  to  his  feet  and  Stuffy 
roll  over  like  a  startled  porpoise. 

Sitting  on  the  stile  that  crossed  the  wall  near  by  was 
Mrs.  Jo,  with  two  jugs  slung  over  her  shoulder  by 
a  strap,  several  tin  mugs  in  her  hand,  and  an  old- 
fashioned  sun- bonnet  on  her  head. 

"I  knew  the  boys  would  be  killing  themselves  with 
ice-water ;  so  I  strolled  down  with  some  of  my  good, 
wholesome  beer.  They  drank  like  fishes.  But  Silas 
was  with  me ;  so  my  cruse  still  holds  out.  Have 
some  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thanks,  very  much.  Let  us  pour  it/*  And 
Dolly  held  the  cup  while  Stuffy  joyfully  filled  it;  both 
very  grateful,  but  rather  afraid  she  had  heard  what 
went  before  the  wish  she  fulfilled. 

She  proved  that  she  had  by  saying,  as  they  stood 
drinking  her  health,  while  she  sat  between  them,  look- 
ing like  a  middle-aged  vivandiere,  with  her  jugs  and 
mugs,  — 

' '  I  was  glad  to  hear  you  say  you  would  like  to  have 
girls  at  your  college  ;  but  I  hope  you  will  learn  to  speak 
more  respectfully  of  them  before  they  come ;  for  that 
will  be  the  first  lesson  they  will  teach  you." 

"  Really,  ma'am,  I  was  only  joking,"  began  Stuffy, 
gulping  down  his  beer  in  a  hurry. 

"So  was  I.  I'm  sure  I  —  I'm  devoted  to  'em," 
stuttered  Doll}T,  panic-stricken  ;  for  he  saw  that  he  was 
in  for  a  lecture  of  some  sort. 

"  Not  in  the  right  way.  Frivolous  girls  may  like  to 
be  called  '  little  dears  '  and  things  of  that  sort ;  but  the 
girls  Tvho  love  study  wish  to  be  treated  like  reasonable 
beings,  not   dolls    to   flirt  with.     Yes,   I'm  going   to 

18 


274  JO'S  BOYS. 

preach ;  that 's  my  business ;  so  stand  up  and  take  it 
like  men." 

Mrs.  Jo  laughed ;  but  she  was  in  earnest ;  for  by 
various  hints  and  signs  during  the  past  winter  she  knew 
that  the  bo}Ts  were  beginning  to  "  see  life  "  in  the  way 
she  especially  disapproved.  Both  were  far  from  home, 
had  money  enough  to  waste,  and  were  as  inexperienced, 
curious,  and  credulous  as  most  lads  of  their  age.  Not 
fond  of  books,  therefore  without  the  safeguard  which 
keeps  many  studious  fellows  out  of  harm ;  one  self- 
indulgent,  indolent,  and  so  used  to  luxury  that  pamper- 
ing of  the  senses  was  an  easy  thing  ;  the  other  vain,  —  as 
all  comely  boys  are,  —  full  of  conceit,  and  so  eager  to  find 
favor  in  the  eyes  of  his  comrades  that  he  was  ready  for 
anything  which  would  secure  it.  These  traits  and  foi- 
bles made  both  peculiarly  liable  to  the  temptations  which 
assail  pleasure-loving  and  weak-willed  boys.  Mrs.  Jo 
knew  them  well,  and  had  dropped  many  a  warning  word 
since  the}T  went  to  college ;  but  till  lately  they  seemed 
not  to  understand  some  of  her  friendly  hints.;  now  she 
was  sure  the}T  would,  and  meant  to  speak  out ;  for  long 
experience  with  boj-s  had  made  her  both  bold  and  skil- 
ful in  handling  some  of  the  dangers  usually  left  to 
silence,  till  it  is  too  late  for  anything  but  pity  and 
reproach. 

"I'm  going  to  talk  to  3-011  like  a  mother,  because 
yours  are  far  away ;  and  there  are  things  that  mothers 
can  manage  best,  if  they  do  their  duty,"  she  solemnly 
began  from  the  depths  of  the  sun-bonnet. 

"  Great  Scott !  We  're  in  for  it  now  !  "  thought  Dolly, 
in  secret  dismay  ;  while  Stuffy  got  the  first  blow  by  try- 
ing to  sustain  himself  with  another  mug  of  beer. 


IN  THE   TENNIS   COURT.  275 

&i  That  won't  hurt  you ;  but  I  must  warn  you  about 
drinking  other  things,  George.  Overeating  is  an  old 
story ;  and  a  few  more  fits  of  illness  will  teach  you  to 
be  wise.  But  drinking  is  a  more  serious  thing,  and 
leads  to  worse  harm  than  any  that  can  afflict  your  body 
alone.  I  hear  }^ou  talk  about  wines  as  if  you  knew 
them  and  cared  more  for  them  than  a  boy  should  ;  and 
several  times  I  've  heard  jokes  that  meant  mischief. 
For  heaven's  sake,  don't  begin  to  play  with  this  danger- 
ous taste  '  for  fun,'  as  }Tou  say,  or  because  it's  the  fash- 
ion, and  the  other  fellows  do.  Stop  at  once,  and  learn 
that  temperance  in  all  things  is  the  only  safe  rule." 

"  Upon  my  honor,  I  only  take  wine  and  iron.  I 
need  a  tonic,  mother  says,  to  repair  the  waste  of  brain- 
tissue  while  I  'm  studying,"  protested  Stuffy,  putting 
down  the  mug  as  if  it  burnt  his  fingers. 

"  Good  beef  and  oatmeal  will  repair  your  tissues 
much  better  than  any  tonic  of  that  sort.  Work  and 
plain  fare  are  what  you  want ;  and  I  wish  I  had  you 
here  for  a  few  months  out  of  harm's  way.  I  'd  Banting 
you,  and  fit  you  to  run  without  puffing,  and  get  on  with- 
out four  or  five  meals  a  da}'.  What  an  absurd  hand 
that  is  for  a  man  !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  it !  " 
And  Mrs.  Jo  caught  up  the  plump  fist,  with  deep  dim- 
ples at  each  knuckle,  which  was  fumbling  distressfully 
at  the  buckle  of  the  belt  girt  about  a  waist  far  too  large 
for  a  youth  of  his  age. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  —  we  all  grow  fat ;  it 's  in  the  fam- 
ily," said  Stuffy  in  self-defence. 

"  All  the  more  reason  you  should  live  carefully. 
Do  you  want  to  die  early,  or  be  an  invalid  all  you* 
life?" 


276  JO'S  BOYS. 

"No,  ma'am!" 

Stuffy  looked  so  scared  that  Mrs.  Jo  could  not  be 
hard  upon  his  budding  sins,  for  they  lay  at  his  over- 
indulgent  mother's  door  in  a  great  measure  ;  so  she  soft- 
ened the  tone  of  her  voice,  and  added,  with  a  little  slap 
on  the  fat  hand,  as  she  used  to  do  when  it  was  small 
enough  to  pilfer  lumps  of  sugar  from  her  bowl,  — 

"  Then  be  careful ;  for  a  man  writes  his  character  in 
his  face  ;  and  }tou  don't  want  gluttony  and  intemperance 
in  yours,  I  know." 

"  I  'in  sure  I  don't!  Please  make  out  a  wholesome 
bill  of  fare,  and  I  '11  stick  to  it,  if  I  can.  I  am  getting 
stout,  and  I  don't  like  it ;  and  my  liver  's  torpid,  and  1 
have  palpitations  and  headache.  Overwork,  mother 
sa}Ts  ;  but  it  may  be  overeating."  And  Stuff}'  gave  a 
sigh  of  mingled  regret  for  the  good  things  he  renounced, 
and  relief  as  he  finished  loosening  his  belt  as  soon  as 
his  hand  was  free. 

"  I  will;  follow  it,  and  in  a  year  3rou'll  be  a  man 
and  not  a  meal-bag.  Now,  Dolty ; "  and  Mrs.  Jo 
turned  to  the  other  culprit,  who  shook  in  his  shoes  and 
wished  he  had  n't  come. 

"  Are  you  studying  French  as  industriously  as  you 
were  last  winter  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am  ;  I  don't  care  for  it  —  that  is,  I  —  I  'm 
busy  with  G-Greek  just  now,"  answered  Dolly,  begin- 
ning bravely,  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  what  that  odd 
question  meant  till  a  sudden  memory  made  him  stutter 
and  look  at  his  shoes  with  deep  interest. 

"  Oh,  he  does  n't  study  it ;  only  reads  French  novels 
and  goes  to  the  theatre  when  the  Opera  Bouffe  is  here," 
said  Stuffy,  innocently  confirming  Mrs.  Jo's  suspicions. 


IN  THE   TENNIS  COURT.  211 

M  So  I  understood  ;  and  that  is  what  I  want  to  speak 
about.  Ted  had  a  sudden  desire  to  learn  French  in 
that  way,  from  something  you  said,  Doll}' ;  so  I  went 
myself,  and  was  quite  satisfied  that  it  was  no  place  for 
a  decent  boy.  Your  men  were  out  in  full  force  ;  and  I 
was  glad  to  see  that  some  of  the  younger  ones  looked 
as  ashamed  as  I  felt.  The  older  fellows  enjoyed  it,  and 
when  we  came  out  were  waiting  to  take  those  painted 
girls  to  supper.     Did  you  ever  go  with  them  ?  " 

"Once." 

"  Did  you  like  it?" 

"  No  'm  ;  I  —  I  came  away  early,"  stammered  Dolly, 
with  a  face  as  red  as  his  splendid  tie. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  have  not  lost  the  grace  of  blushing 
yet ;  but  you  will  soon,  if  you  keep  up  this  sort  of 
study  and  forget  to  be  ashamed.  The  society  of  such 
women  will  unfit  you  for  that  of  good  ones,  and  lead 
you  into  trouble  and  sin  and  shame.  Oh,  why  don't  the 
city  fathers  stop  that  evil  thing,  when  the}7  know  the 
harm  it  does?  It  made  my  heart  ache  to  see  those 
boys,  who  ought  to  be  at  home  and  in  their  beds,  going 
off  for  a  night  of  riot  which  would  help  to  ruin  some  of 
them  forever." 

The  youths  looked  scared  at  Mrs.  Jo's  energetic  pro- 
test against  one  of  the  fashionable  pleasures  of  the  day, 
and  waited  in  conscience-stricken  silence,  —  Stuffy  glad 
that  he  never  went  to  those  gay  suppers,  and  Dol]y 
deeply  grateful  that  he  "  came  away  early."  With  a 
hand  on  either  shoulder,  and  all  the  terrors  smoothed 
from  her  brow,  Mrs.  Jo  went  on  in  her  most  motherly 
tone,  anxious  to  do  for  them  what  no  other  woman 
would,  and  do  it  kindly,  — 


278  JO'S  BOYS* 

"  My  dear  boys,  if  I  did  n't  love  you,  I  would  not 
say  these  things.  I  know  they  are  not  pleasant ;  but 
my  conscience  won't  let  me  hold  nvy  peace  when  a  word 
may  keep  }Tou  from  two  of  the  great  sins  that  curse  the 
world  and  send  so  many  37oung  men  to  destruction. 
You  are  just  beginning  to  feel  the  allurement  of  them, 
and  soon  it  will  be  hard  to  turn  awa}\  Stop  now,  I 
beg  of  you,  and  not  only  save  yourselves  but  help 
others  by  a  brave  example.  Come  to  me  if  things 
worry  you  ;  don't  be  afraid  or  ashamed  ;  I  have  heard 
many  sadder  confessions  than  any  you  are  ever  likely 
to  bring  me,  and  been  able  to  comfort  many  poor 
fellows,  gone  wrong  for  want  of  a  word  in  time.  Do 
this,  and  you  will  be  able  to  kiss  your  mothers  with 
clean  lips,  and  b}7  and  by  have  the  right  to  ask  innocent 
girls  to  love  you." 

"  Yes  'm,  thank  you.  I  suppose  you're  right;  but 
it's  pretty  hard  work  to  toe  the  mark  when  ladies 
give  you  wine  and  gentlemen  take  their  daughters  to 
see  Aimee,"  said  Dolly,  foreseeing  tribulations  ahead, 
though  he  knew  it  was  time  to  "pull  up." 

"So  it  is ;  but  all  the  more  honor  to  those  who  are 
brave  and  wise  enough  to  resist  public  opinion,  and  the 
easy-going  morals  of  bad  or  careless  men  and  women. 
Think  of  the  persons  whom  3'Ou  respect  most,  and  in 
imitating  them  3'Ou  will  secure  the  respect  of  those  who 
look  up  to  }'Ou.  I  'd  rather  my  bo3'S  should  be  laughed 
at  and  cold-shouldered  by  a  hundred  foolish  fellows 
than  lose  what,  once  gone,  no  power  can  give  them 
back,  —  innocence  and  self-respect.  I  don't  wonder 
you  find  it  '  hard  to  toe  the  mark,'  when  books,  pic- 
tures,  ball-rooms,  theatres,  and  streets  offer  tempta- 


IN  THE   TENNIS   COURT.  279 

tions  ;  yet  you  can  resist,  if  you  try.  Last  winter  Mrs. 
Brooke  used  to  worry  about  John's  being  out  so  late 
reporting ;  but  when  she  spoke  to  him  about  the  things 
he  must  see  and  hear  on  his  way  to  and  from  the  office 
at  midnight,  he  said  in  his  sober  way,  c  I  know  what 
you  mean,  mother;  but  no  fellow  need  to  go  wrong 
sinless  he  wants  to.' " 

44  That's  like  the  Deacon  !  "  exclaimed  Stuffy,  with  an 
approving  smile  on  his  fat  face. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  told  me  that.  He  's  right ;  and  it  *s 
because  he  does  n't  want  to  go  wrong  we  all  respect 
him  so,"  added  Dolly,  looking  up  now  with  an  expres- 
sion which  assured  his  Mentor  that  the  right  string  had 
been  touched,  and  a  spirit  of  emulation  roused,  more 
helpful,  perhaps,  than  any  words  of  hers.  Seeing  this, 
she  was  satisfied,  and  said,  as  she  prepared  to  leave 
the  bar  before  which  her  culprits  had  been  tried  and 
found  guilty,  but  recommended  to  mercy,  — 

44  Then  be  to  others  what  John  is  to  you,  —  a  good 
example.  Forgive  me  for  troubling  you,  my  dear  lads, 
and  remember  my  little  preachment.  I  think  it  will  do 
you  good,  though  I  may  never  know  it.  Chance  words 
spoken  in  kindness  often  help  amazingly ;  and  that 's 
what  old  people  are  here  for,  —  else  their  experience  is 
of  little  use,  Now,  come  and  find  the  young  folk.  I 
hope  I  shall  never  have  to  shut  the  gates  of  Plumfield 
upon  you,  as  I  have  on  some  of  your  i  gentlemen.'  I 
mean  to  keep  my  boys  and  girls  safe  if  I  can,  and  this 
a  wholesome  place  where  the  good  old-fashioned  virtues 
are  lived  and  taught." 

Much  impressed  by  that  dire  threat,  Dolly  helped  her 
from  her  perch  with  deep  respect ;  and  Stuffy  relieved 


280  JO'S  BOYS. 

her  of  her  empty  jugs,  solemnly  vowing  to  abstain  irom 
all  fermented  beverages  except  root-beer,  as  long  as 
feeble  flesh  could  hold  out.  Of  course  they  made  light 
of  "  Mother  Bhaer's  lecture"  when  they  were  alone,  — 
that  was  to  be  expected  of  "  the  men  of  our  class ; " 
but  in  their  secret  souls  they  thanked  her  for  giving 
their  boyish  consciences  a  jog,  and  more  than  once 
afterward  had  cause  to  remember  gratefully  that  half- 
foour  in  the  tennis  court. 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

AMONG   THE  MAIDS. 

ALTHOUGH  this  story  is  about  Jo's  boys,  her  girls 
cannot  be  neglected,  because  they  held  a  high 
place  in  this  little  republic,  and  especial  care  was  taken 
to  fit  them  to  play  their  parts  worthily  in  the  great 
republic  which  offered  them  wider  opportunities  and 
more  serious  duties.  To  many  the  social  influence  was 
the  better  part  of  the  training  they  received ;  for  edu- 
cation is  not  confined  to  books,  and  the  finest  characters 
often  graduate  from  no  college,  but  make  experience 
their  master,  and  life  their  book.  Others  cared  only  for 
the  mental  culture,  and  were  in  danger  of  over-studying, 
under  the  delusion  which  pervades  New  England  that 
learning  must  be  had  at  all  costs,  forgetting  that  health 
and  real  wisdom  are  better.  A  third  class  of  ambitious 
girls  hardly  knew  what  they  wanted,  but  were  hungry 
for  whatever  could  fit  them  to  face  the  world  and  earn 
a  living,  being  driven  by  necessit}T,  the  urgenc}'  of  some 
half-unconscious  talent,  or  the  restlessness  of  strong 
young  natures  to  break  away  from  the  narrow  life  which 
no  longer  satisfied. 

At  Plumfield  all  found  something  to  help  them  ;  for 
the  growing  institution  had  not  yet  made  its  rules  as 
fixed  as  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians,  and  be- 


282  JO'S  BOYS* 

lieved  so  heartily  in  the  right  of  all  sexes,  colors,  creeds, 
and  ranks  to  education,  that  there  was  room  for  every 
one  who  knocked,  and  a  welcome  to  the  shabby  youths 
from  up  country,  the  eager  girls  from  the  West,  the 
awkward  freedman  or  woman  from  the  South,  or  the 
well-born  student  whose  poverty  made  this  college  a 
possibility  when  other  doors  were  barred.  There  still 
was  prejudice,  ridicule,  neglect  in  high  places,  and 
prophecies  of  failure  to  contend  against ;  but  the  Fac- 
ulty was  composed  of  cheerful,  hopeful  men  and  women 
who  had  seen  greater  reforms  spring  from  smaller  roots, 
and  after  stormy  seasons  blossom  beautifully,  to  add 
prosperity  and  honor  to  the  nation.  So  they  worked 
on  steadily  and  bided  their  time,  full  of  increasing  faith 
in  their  attempt  as  year  after  year  their  numbers  grew, 
their  plans  succeeded,  and  the  sense  of  usefulness  in 
this  most  vital  of  all  professions  blessed  them  with  its 
sweet  rewards.  • 

Among  the  various  customs  which  had  very  naturally 
sprung  up  was  one  especially  useful  and  interesting  to 
41  the  girls,"  as  the  young  women  liked  to  be  called. 
It  all  grew  out  of  the  old  sewing  hour  still  kept  up  by 
the  three  sisters  long  after  the  little  work-boxes  had 
expanded  into  big  baskets  full  of  household  mending. 
They  were  bus}'  women,  }*et  on  Saturdays  they  tried  to 
meet  in  one  of  the  three  sewing-rooms  ;  for  even  classic 
Parnassus  had  its  nook  where  Mrs.  Amy  often  sat 
among  her  servants,  teaching  them  to  make  and  mend, 
thereby  giving  them  a  respect  for  economy,  since  the 
rich  lady  did  not  scorn  to  darn  her  hose,  and  sew  on 
buttons.  In  these  household  retreats,  with  books  and 
work,  and  their  daughters  by  them,  they  read  and  sewed 


AMONG   THE  MAIDS.  283 

and  talked  in  the  sweet  privacy  that  domestic  women 
love,  and  can  make  so  helpful  by  a  wise  mixture  of 
cooks  and  chemistry,  table  linen  and  theology,  prosaic 
duties  and  good  poetry. 

Mrs.  Meg  was  the  first  to  propose  enlarging  this 
little  circle  ;  for  as  she  went  her  motherly  rounds  among 
the  young  women  she  found  a  sad  lack  of  order,  skill, 
and  industry  in  this  branch  of  education.  Latin,  Greek, 
the  higher  mathematics,  and  science  of  all  sorts  pros- 
pered finel}' ;  but  dust  gathered  on  the  work-baskets, 
fraj-ed  elbows  went  unheeded,  and  some  of  the  blue 
stockings  sadly  needed  mending.  Anxious  lest  the 
usual  sneer  at  learned  women  should  apply  to  ' '  our 
girls,"  she  gently  lured  two  or  three  of  the  most  un- 
tidy to  her  house,  and  made  the  hour  so  pleasant,  the 
lesson  so  kindly,  that  they  took  the  hint,  were  grateful 
for  the  favor,  and  asked  to  come  again.  Others  soon 
begged  to  make  the  detested  weekly  duty  lighter  by 
joining  the  party,  and  soon  it  was  a  privilege  so  much 
desired  that  the  old  museum  was  refitted  with  sewing- 
machines,  tables,  rocking-chairs,  and  a  cheerful  fire- 
place, so  that,  rain  or  shine,  the  needles  might  go  on 
undisturbed. 

Here  Mrs.  Meg  was  in  her  gloiy,  and  stood  wielding 
her  big  shears  like  a  queen  as  she  cut  out  white  work, 
fitted  dresses,  and  directed  Daisy,'  her  special  aide, 
about  the  trimming  of  hats,  and  completing  the  lace 
and  ribbon  trifles  which  add  grace  to  the  simplest  cos- 
tume and  save  poor  or  busy  girls  so  much  money  and 
time.  Mrs.  Anry  contributed  taste,  and  decided  the 
great  question  of  colors  and  complexions ;  for  few 
women,  even  the  most  learned,  are  without  that  desire 


284  JO'S  BOYS. 

to  look  well  which  makes  many  a  plain  face  comely,  as 
well  as  many  a  pretty  one  ugly  for  want  of  skill  and 
knowledge  of  the  fitness  of  things.  She  also  took  her 
turn  to  provide  books  for  the  readings,  and  as  art  was 
her  forte  she  gave  them  selections  from  Ruskin,  Ham- 
erton,  and  Mrs.  Jameson,  who  is  never  old.  Bess  read 
these  aloud  as  her  contribution,  and  Josie  took  her  turn 
at  the  romances,  poetry,  and  plays  her  uncles  recom- 
mended. Mrs.  Jo  gave  little  lectures  on  health,  reli- 
gion, politics,  and  the  various  questions  in  which  all 
should  be  interested,  with  copious  extracts  from  Miss 
Cobbe's  "Duties  of  Women,"  Miss  Brackett's  "Edu- 
cation of  American  Girls,"  Mrs.  Duffy's  "No  Sex  in 
Education,"  Mrs.  Woolson's  "  Dress  Reform,"  and 
many  of  the  other  excellent  books  wise  women  write 
for  their  sisters,  now  that  they  are  waking  up  and  ask- 
ing, "  What  shall  we  do?" 

It  was  curious  to  see  the  prejudices  melt  away  as 
ignorance  was  enlightened,  indifference  change  to  in- 
terest, and  intelligent  minds  set  thinking,  while  quick 
wits  and  lively  tongues  added  spice  to  the  discussions 
which  inevitably  followed.  So  the  feet  that  wore  the 
neatly  mended  hose  carried  wiser  heads  than  before, 
the  pretty  gowns  covered  hearts  warmed  with  higher 
purposes,  and  the  hands  that  dropped  the  thimbles  for 
pens,  lexicons,  and  celestial  globes,  were  better  fitted 
for  life's  work,  whether  to  rock  cradles,  tend  the  sick, 
or  help  on  the  great  work  of  the  world. 

One  dajT  a  brisk  discussion  arose  concerning  careers 
for  women.  Mrs.  Jo  had  read  something  on  the  subject 
and  asked  each  of  the  dozen  girls  sitting  about  the 
room,   what  she   intended   to  do  on  leaving  college 


AMONG   THE  MAIDS,  285 

The  answers  were  as  usual :  "  I  shall  teach,  help  mother, 
study  medicine,  art,"  etc. ;  but  nearly  all  ended  with, 
"Till  I  marry." 

"But  if  you  don't  marry,  what  then?"  asked  Mrs. 
Jo,  feeling  like  a  girl  again  as  she  listened  to  the  an- 
swers, and  watched  the  thoughtful,  gaj7,  or  eager  faces. 

"Be  old  maids,  I  suppose.  Horrid,  but  inevitable, 
since  there  are  so  many  superfluous  women,"  answered 
a  lively  lass,  too  pretty  to  fear  single  blessedness  unless 
she  chose  it. 

"  It  is  well  to  consider  that  fact,  and  fit  yourselves 
to  be  useful,  not  superfluous  women.  That  class,  by 
the  waj^,  is  largely  made  up  of  widows,  I  find  ;  so  don't 
consider  it  a  slur  on  maidenhood." 

"That's  a  comfort!  Old  maids  aren't  sneered  at 
half  as  much  as  they  used  to  be,  since  some  of  them 
have  grown  famous  and  proved  that  woman  is  n't  a  half 
but  a  whole  human  being,  and  can  stand  alone." 

"Don't  like  it  all  the  same.  We  can't  all  be  like 
Miss  Cobbe,  Miss  Nightingale,  Miss  Phelps,  and  the 
rest.  So  what  can  we  do  but  sit  in  a  corner  and  look 
on?"  asked  a  plain  girl  with  a  dissatisfied  expression. 

"  Cultivate  cheerfulness  and  content,  if  nothing  else. 
But  there  are  so  many  little  odd  jobs  waiting  to  be 
lone  that  nobody  need  '  sit  idle  and  look  on,*  unless 
she  chooses,"  said  Mrs.  Meg,  with  a  smile,  lajdng  on 
the  girl's  head  the  new  hat  she  had  just  trimmed. 

"  Thank  you  very  much.  Yes,  Mrs.  Brooke,  I  see  ; 
it 's  a  little  job,  but  it  makes  me  neat  and  happy,  — 
and  grateful,"  she  added,  looking  up  with  brighter  eyes 
as  she  accepted  the  labor  of  love  and  the  lesson  aa 
sweetly  as  they  were  given*. 


286  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  One  of  the  best  and  most  beloved  women  I  know  has 
been  doing  odd  jobs  for  the  Lord  for  3Tears,  and  will  keep 
at  it  till  her  dear  hands  are  folded  in  her  coffin.  All  sorts 
of  things  she  does,  —  picks  up  neglected  children  and 
puts  them  in  safe  homes,  saves  lost  girls,  nurses  poor 
women  in  trouble,  sews,  knits,  trots,  begs,  works  for  the 
poor  day  after  dajr  with  no  reward  but  the  thanks  of  the 
needy,  the  love  and  honor  of  the  rich  who  make  Saint 
Matilda  their  almoner.  That 's  a  life  worth  living  ;  and 
I  think  that  quiet  little  woman  will  get  a  higher  seat  in 
Heaven  than  man}r  of  those  of  whom  the  world  has 
heard." 

"  I  know  it 's  lovely,  Mrs.  Bhaer ;  but  it 's  dull  for 
young  folks.  We  do  want  a  little  fun  before  we 
buckle  to,"  said  a  Western  girl  with  a  wide-awake  face. 

"  Have  your  fun,  my  dear;  but  if  3'ou  must  earn 
3'our  bread,  try  to  make  it  sweet  with  cheerfulness,  not 
bitter  with  the  daily  regret  that  it  is  n't  cake.  I  used 
to  think  mine  was  a  very  hard  fate  because  I  had  to 
amuse  a  somewhat  fretful  old  lady ;  but  the  books  I 
read  in  that  lonely  library  have  been  of  immense  use  to 
me  since,  and  the  dear  old  soul  bequeathed  me  Plum- 
field  for  my  i  cheerful  service  and  affectionate  care.'  I 
did  n't  deserve  it,  but  I  did  use  to  try  to  be  jolly  and 
kind,  and  get  as  much  honey  out  of  duty  as  I  could  * 
thanks  to  my  dear  mother's  help  and  advice." 

"Gracious!  if  I  could  earn  a  place  like  this,  I'd 
sing  all  day  and  be  an  angel ;  but  you  have  to  take 
your  chance,  and  get  nothing  for  your  pains,  perhaps. 
I  never  do,"  said  the  Westerner,  who  had  a  hard  time 
with  small  means  and  large  aspirations. 

i  i  Don't  do  it  for  the  reward ;   but  be  sure  it  will 


AMONG   THE  MAIDS.  287 

come,  though  not  in  the  shape  you  expect.  I  worked 
hard  for  fame  and  money  one  winter ;  but  I  got  neither, 
and  was  much  disappointed.  A  year  afterward  I  found 
I  had  earned  two  prizes :  skill  with  my  pen,  and  — ■ 
Professor  Bhaer." 

Mrs.  Jo's  laugh  was  echoed  blithely  by  the  girls, 
who  liked  to  have  these  conversations  enlivened  by 
illustrations  from  life. 

"  You  are  a  very  lucky  woman,"  began  the  discontent- 
ed damsel,  whose  soul  soared  above  new  hats,  welcome 
as  they  were,  but  did  not  quite  know  where  to  steer. 

"Yet  her  name  used  to  be  'Luckless  Jo,' and  she 
never  had  what  she  wanted  till  she  had  given  up  hoping 
for  it,"  said  Mrs.  Meg. 

"I'll  give  up  hoping,  then,  right  away,,  and  see  if 
my  wishes  will  come.  I  only  want  to  help  my  folks, 
and  get  a  good  school." 

' '  Take  this  proverb  for  your  guide  :  '  Get  the  distaff 
ready,  and  the  Lord  will  send  the  flax,' "  answered 
Mrs.  Jo. 

"  We  'd  better  all  do  that,  if  we  are  to  be  spinsters, " 
said  the  prett\r  one,  adding  gayly,  "  I  think  I  should 
like  it,  on  the  whole,  — they  are  so  independent.  My 
Aunt  Jennj-  can  do  just  what  she  likes,  and  ask  no  one's 
leave;  but  Ma  has  to  consult  Pa  about  everything* 
Yes,  I'll  give  you  my  chance,  Sally,  and  be  a  'super- 
fluum,'  as  Mr.  Plock  srjs.'* 

"  You'll  be  one  of  the  first  to  go  into  bondage,  see  if 
you  are  n't.     Much  obliged,  all  the  same." 

"  Well,  I  '11  get  my  distaff  ready,  and  take  whatever 
flax  the  Fates  send,  —  single,  or  double-twisted,  as  the 
powers  please." 


288  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  That  is  the  right  spirit,  Nelly.  Keep  it  up,  and 
see  how  happy  life  will  be  with  a  brave  heart,  a  will- 
ing hand,  and  plenty  to  do." 

' '  No  one  objects  to  plenty  of  domestic  work  or  fash- 
ionable pleasure,  I  find ;  but  the  minute  we  begin  to 
study,  people  tell  us  we  can't  bear  it,  and  warn  us  to  be 
very  careful.  I  've  tried  the  other  things,  and  got  so 
tired  I  came  to  college  ;  though  m}T  people  predict  ner- 
vous exhaustion  and  an  early  death.  Do  you  think 
there  is  an}7  danger? "  asked  a  stately  girl,  with  an 
anxious  glance  at  the  blooming  face  reflected  in  the 
mirror  opposite. 

' '  Are  3tou  stronger  or  weaker  than  when  you  came 
two  3'ears  ago,  Miss  Winthrop  ?  " 

"Stronger  in  body,  and  much  happier  in  mind.  I 
think  I  was  dying  of  ennui ;  but  the  doctors  called  it  in- 
herited delicacy  of  constitution.  That  is  why  mammt, 
is  so  anxious,  and  I  wish  not  to  go  too  fast." 

"  Don't  worry,  my  dear;  that  active  brain  of  3Tours 
was  starving  for  good  food ;  it  has  a  plenty  now,  and 
plain  living  suits  you  better  than  luxury  and  dissipation. 
It  is  all  nonsense  about  girls  not  being  able  to  stud}r  as 
well  as  boys.  Neither  can  bear  cramming ;  but  with 
proper  care  both  are  better  for  it ;  so  enjoy  the  life 
your  instinct  led  3Tou  to,  and  we  will  prove  that  wise 
head-work  is  a  better  cure  for  that  sort  of  delicac}7  than 
tonics,  and  novels  on  the  sofa,  where  far  too  many  of 
our  girls  go  to  wreck  nowada3Ts.  The3T  burn  the 
candle  at  both  ends  ;  and  when  they  break  down  they 
blame  the  books,  not  the  balls." 

"Dr.  Nan  was  telling  me  about  a  patient  of  hers 
who  thought  she  had  heart-complaint,  till  Nan  made 


AMONG   THE  MaIDS.  289 

her  take  off  her  corsets,  stopped  her  coffee  and  dancing 
all  night,  and  made  her  eat,  sleep,  walk,  and  live 
regularly  for  a  time ;  and  now  she 's  a  brilliant  cure. 
Common-sense  versus  custom,  Nan  said." 

"  I  've  had  no  headaches  since  I  came  here,  and  can 
do  twice  as  much  studying  as  I  did  at  home.  It 's  the 
air,  I  think,  and  the  fun  of  going  ahead  of  the  boys," 
said  another  girl,  tapping  her  big  forehead  with  her 
thimble,  as  if  the  lively  brain  inside  was  in  good 
working  order  and  enjoyed  the  daily  gymnastics  sue 
gave  it. 

"  Qualit}7,  not  quantity,  wins  the  daj7,  you  known 
Our  brains  may  be  smaller,  but  I  don't  see  that  they 
fall  short  of  what  is  required  of  them  ;  and  if  I  'm  not 
mistaken,  the  largest-headed  man  in  our  class  is  the 
dullest,"  said  Nelly,  with  a  solemn  air  which  produced 
a  gale  of  merriment ;  for  all  knew  that  the  young 
Goliath  she  mentioned  had  been  metaphorically  slain 
by  this  quick-witted  David  on  man}7  a  battle-field,  to 
the  great  disgust  of  himself  and  mates. 

"  Mrs.  Brooke,  do  I  gauge  on  the  right  or  the  wrong 
side?"  asked  the  best  Greek  scholar  of  her  class,  ey- 
ing a  black  silk  apron  with  a  lost  expression. 

"  The  right,  Miss  Pierson ;  and  leave  a  space  be- 
tween the  tucks ;   it  looks  prettier  so." 

"I'll  never  make  another;  but  it  will  save  my 
dresses  from  ink-stains,  so  I  'm  glad  I  've  got  it ;  " 
and  the  erudite  Miss  Pierson  labored  on,  finding  it  a 
harder  task  than  any  Greek  root  she  ever  dug  up. 

"  We  paper-stainers  must  learn  how  to  make  shields, 
or  we  are  lost.  I  '11  give  you  a  pattern  of  the  pinafore 
I  used  to  wear  in  my  '  blood-and-thunder  days,'  as  we 

19 


290  JO'S  BOYS. 

call  them,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  trying  to  remember  what 
became  of  the  old  tin-kitchen  which  used  to  hold  her 
works. 

"  Speaking  of  writers  reminds  me  that  nry  ambition 
is  to  be  a  George  Eliot,  and  thrill  the  world  !  It  must 
be  so  splendid  to  know  that  one  has  such  power,  and 
to  hear  people  own  that  one  possesses  a  '  masculine 
intellect'!  I  don't  care  for  most  women's  novels,  but 
hers  are  immense;  don't  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Bhaer?" 
asked  the  girl  with  the  big  forehead,  and  torn  braid  on 
her  skirt. 

"  Yes ;  but  they  don't  thrill  me  as  little  Charlotte 
Bronte's  books  do.  The  brain  is  there,  but  the  heart 
seems  left  out.  I  admire,  but  I  don't  love,  George 
Eliot;  and  her  life  is  far  sadder  to  me  than  Miss 
Bronte's,  because,  in  spite  of  the  genius,  love,  and 
fame,  she  missed  the  light  without  which  no  soul  is 
truly  great,  good,  or  happy." 

"  Yes  'm,  I  know  ;  but  still  it's  so  romantic  and  sort 
of  new  and  mysterious,  and  she  was  great  in  one  sense. 
Her  nerves  and  dyspepsia  do  rather  destro3T  the  illu- 
sion ;  but  I  adore  famous  people  and  mean  to  go  and 
see  all  I  can  scare  up  in  London  some  day." 

' '  You  will  find  some  of  the  best  of  them  bus}7  about 
just  the  work  I  recommend  to  3Tou  ;  and  if  you  want  to 
see  a  great  lady,  I'll  tell  you  that  Mrs.  Laurence  means 
to  bring  one  here  to-day.  Lady  Ambercrombie  is 
lunching  with  her,  and  after  seeing  the  college  is  to 
call  on  us.  She  especially  wanted  to  see  our  sewing- 
school,  as  she  is  interested  in  things  of  this  sort,  and 
gets  them  up  at  home." 

64  .Bless  me  !     I  always  imagined  lords  and  ladies  did 


AMONG   THE   MAIDS.  291 

nothing  but  ride  round  in  a  coach  and  six,  go  to  balls, 
and  be  presented  to  the  Queen  in  cocked  hats  and  trains 
and  feathers,"  exclaimed  an  artless  young  person  from 
the  wilds  of  Maine,  whither  an  illustrated  paper  occa- 
sionally wandered. 

"  Not  at  all ;  Lord  Ambercrombie  is  over  here  study- 
ing  up  our  American  prison  system,  and  my  lady  is  busy 
with  the  schools,  —  both  very  high-born,  but  the  simplest 
and  most  sensible  people  I  've  met  this  long  time.  They 
are  neither  of  them  young  nor  handsome,  and  dress  very 
plainly ;  so  don't  expect  an}'thiDg  splendid.  Mr.  Lau- 
rence was  telling  me  last  night  about  a  friend  of  his  who 
met  my  lord  in  the  hall,  and  owing  to  a  rough  great- 
coat and  a  red  face,  mistook  him  for  a  coachman,  and 
said,  '  Now,  my  "man,  what  do  you  want  here? '  Lord 
Ambercrombie  mildly  mentioned  who  he  was,  and  that 
he  had  come  to  dinner.  And  the  poor  host  was  much 
afflicted,  sa}ing  afterward,  4  Wiry  did  n't  he  wear  his 
stars  and  garters  ?  then  a  fellow  would  know  he  was  a 
lord." 

The  girls  laughed  again,  and  a  general  rustle  betrayed 
that  each  was  prinking  a  bit  before  the  titled  guest 
arrived.  Even  Mrs.  Jo  settled  her  collar,  and  Mrs. 
Meg  felt  if  her  cap  was  right,  while  Bess  shook  out  her 
curls,  and  Josie  boldly  consulted  the  glass  ;  for  they 
were  women,  in  spite  of  philosophy  and  philanthropy. 

"  Shall  we  all  rise?  "  asked  one  girl,  deeply  impressed 
by  the  impending  honor. 

"  It  would  be  courteous." 

"  Shall  we  shake  hands?" 

"  No,  I  '11  present  you  en  masse,  and  your  pleasant 
faces  will  be  introduction  enough." 


292  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  I  wish  I  *d  worn  my  best  dress.  Ought  to  have 
told  us,"  whispered  Sally. 

"  Won't  my  folks  be  surprised  when  I  tell  them  we 
have  had  a  real  lady  to  call  on  us  ?  "  said  another. 

"  Don't  look  as  if  you  'd  never  seen  a  gentlewoman 
before,  Milly.  We  are  not  all  fresh  from  the  wilderness," 
added  the  stately  damsel  who,  having  Mayflower  ances- 
tors, felt  that  she  was  the  equal  of  all  the  crowned  heads 
of  Europe. 

"  Hush,  she 's  coming !  Oh,  my  heart,  what  a  bon- 
net ! "  cried  the  gay  girl  in  a  stage  whisper ;  and  every 
eye  was  demurely  fixed  upon  the  busy  hands  as  the  door 
opened  to  admit  Mrs.  Laurence  and  her  guest. 

It  was  rather  a  shock  to  find,  after  the  general  intro- 
duction was  over,  that  this  daughter  of  a  hundred  earls 
was  a  stout  lady  in  a  plain  gown,  and  a  rather  weather- 
beaten  bonnet,  with  a  bag  of  papers  in  one  hand  and  a 
note-book  in  the  other.  But  the  face  was  full  of  benev- 
olence, the  sonorous  voice  very  kind,  the  genial  man- 
ners very  winning,  and  about  the  whole  person  an 
indescribable  air  of  high  breeding  which  made  beauty  of 
no  consequence,  costume  soon  forgotten,  and  the  mo- 
ment memorable  to  the  keen-eyed  girls  whom  nothing 
escaped. 

A  little  chat  about  the  rise,  growth,  and  success  of 
this  particular  class,  and  then  Mrs.  Jo  led  the  conver- 
sation to  the  English  lady's  work,  anxious  to  show  her 
pupils  how  rank  dignifies  labor,  and  charity  blesses 
wealth. 

It  was  good  for  these  girls  to  hear  of  the  evening- 
schools  supported  and  taught  by  women  whom  they 
knew  and  honored ;  of  Miss  Cobbe's  eloquent  protest 


AMONG   THE  MAIDS,  293 

winning  the  protection  of  the  law  for  abused  wives; 
Mrs.  Butler  saving  the  lost ;  Mrs.  Taylor,  who  devoted 
one  room  in  her  historic  house  to  a  library  for  her  ser- 
vants ;  Lord  Shaftesbury,  busy  with  his  new  tenement- 
houses  in  the  slums  of  London  ;  of  prison  reforms  ;  and 
all  the  brave  work  being  done  in  God's  name  by  the 
rich  and  great  for  the  humble  and  the  poor.  It  impressed 
them  more  than  many  quiet  home  lectures  would  have 
done,  and  roused  an  ambition  to  help  when  their  time 
should  come,  well  knowing  that  even  in  glorious  Amer- 
ica there  is  still  plenty  to  be  done  before  she  is  what  she 
should  be,  —  truly  just,  and  free,  and  great.  They  were 
also  quick  to  see  that  Lady  Ambercrombie  treated  all 
there  as  her  equals,  from  stately  Mrs.  Laurence  to  little 
Josie,  taking  notes  of  everything  and  privately  resolv- 
ing to  have  some  thick-soled  English  boots  as  soon  as 
possible.  No  one  would  have  guessed  that  she  had  a 
big  house  in  London,  a  castle  in  Wales,  and  a  grand 
country-seat  in  Scotland,  as  she  spoke  of  Parnassus  with 
admiration,  Plumfield  as  a  "dear  old  home,"  and  the 
college  as  an  honor  to  all  concerned  in  it.  At  that,  of 
course  every  head  went  up  a  little,  and  when  rn}r  ladj 
left,  every  hand  was  ready  for  the  hearty  shake  the  noble 
English  woman  gave  them,  with  words  they  long  re- 
membered, — ■ 

"  I  am  very  pleased  to  see  this  much-neglected  branch 
of  a  woman's  education  so  well  conducted  here,  and  I 
have  to  thank  me  friend  Mrs.  Laurence  for  one  of  the 
most  charming  pictures  I  've  seen  in  America,  —  Pene- 
lope among  her  maids." 

A  group  of  smiling  faces  watched  the  stout  boots 
trudge  away,  respectful  glances  followed  the   shabby 


294  JO'S  BOYS, 

bonnet  till  it  was  out  of  sight,  and  the  girls  felt  a  truer 
respect  for  their  titled  guest  than  if  she  had  come  in  the 
coach  and  six,  with  all  her  diamonds  on. 

"  I  feel  better  about  the  ;  odd  jobs '  now.  I  only  wish 
I  could  do  them  as  well  as  Lady  Ambercrombie  does," 
said  one. 

"  I  thanked  my  stars  my  button-holes  were  nice,  for 
she  looked  at  them  and  said,  '  Quite  workmanlike,  upon 
me  word,"'  added  another,  feeling  that  her  gingham 
gown  had  come  to  honor. 

"  Her  manners  were  as  sweet  and  kind  as  Mrs. 
Brooke's.  Not  a  bit  stiff  or  condescending,  as  I  ex- 
pected. I  see  now  what  }*ou  meant,  Mrs.  Bhaer,  when 
you  said  once  that  well-bred  people  were  the  same  all 
the  world  over." 

Mrs.  Meg  bowed  her  thanks  for  the  compliment,  and 
Mrs.  Bhaer  said,  — 

"  I  know  them  when  I  see  them,  but  never  shall  be  a 
model  of  deportment  myself.  I  'm  glad  you  enjo}Ted  the 
little  visit.  Now,  if  }tou  young  people  don't  want  Eng- 
land to  get  ahead  of  us  in  mairy  ways,  you  must  bestir 
yourselves  and  keep  abreast ;  for  our  sisters  are  in  ear- 
nest, you  see,  and  don't  waste  time  worrying  about 
their  sphere,  but  make  it  wherever  duty  calls  them." 

"We  will  do  our  best,  ma'am,"  answered  the  girls 
heartily^  and  trooped  awaj7  with  their  work-baskets, 
feeling  that  though  they  might  never  be  Harriet  Marti- 
neaus,  Elizabeth  Brownings,  or  George  Eliots,  they 
might  become  noble,  useful,  and  independent  women, 
and  earn  for  themselves  some  sweet  title  from  the 
grateful  lips  of  the  poor,  better  than  any  a  queen 
could  bestow, 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CLASS  DAY. 

THE  clerk  of  the  weather  evidently  has  a  regard  for 
3Toung  people,  and  sends  sunshine  for  class  days 
as  often  as  he  can.  An  especially  lovely  one  shone 
over  Plumfield  as  this  interesting  anniversary  came 
round,  bringing  the  usual  accompaniments  of  roses, 
strawberries,  white-gowned  girls,  beaming  youths,  proud 
friends,  and  stately  dignitaries  full  of  well-earned  sat- 
isfaction with  the  yearly  harvest.  As  Laurence  College 
was  a  mixed  one,  the  presence  of  young  women  as 
students  gave  to  the  occasion  a  grace  and  animation 
entirely  wanting  where  the  picturesque  half  of  creation 
appear  merely  as  spectators.  The  hands  that  turned 
the  pages  of  wise  books  also  possessed  the  skill  to 
decorate  the  hall  with  flowers ;  eyes  tired  with  study 
shone  with  hospitable  warmth  on  the  assembling  guests  ; 
and  under  the  white  muslins  beat  hearts  as  full  of  ambi- 
tion, hope,  and  courage  as  those  agitating  the  broadcloth 
of  the  ruling  sex. 

College  Hill,  Parnassus,  and  old  Plum  swarmed  with 
cheery  faces,  as  guests,  students,  and  professors  hurried 
to  and  fro  in  the  pleasant  excitement  of  arriving  and 
receiving.  Every  one  was  welcomed  cordially,  whether 
he  rolled  up  in  a  fine  carriage,  or  trudged  afoot  to  see 


296  JO'S  BOYS. 

the  good  son  or  daughter  come  to  honor  on  the  happy 
day  that  rewarded  many  a  mutual  sacrifice.  Mr.  Lau- 
rie and  his  wife  were  on  the  reception  committee,  and 
their  lovely  house  was  overflowing.  Mrs.  Meg,  with 
Daisy  and  Jo  as  aides,  was  in  demand  among  the  girls, 
helping  on  belated  toilettes,  giving  an  eye  tc  spreads, 
and  directing  the  decorations.  Mrs.  Jo  had  her  hands 
full  as  President's  lady,  and  the  mother  of  Ted ;  for  it 
took  all  the  power  and  skill  of  that  energetic  woman  to 
gvt  her  son  into  his  Sunday  best. 

Not  that  he  objected  to  be  well  arrayed  ;  far  from  it  j 
he  adored  good  clothes,  and  owing  to  his  great  height 
already  revelled  in  a  dress-suit,  bequeathed  him  by  a 
dandy  friend.  The  effect  was  very  funny  ;  but  he  would 
wear  it  in  spite  of  the  jeers  of  his  mates,  and  sighed 
vainly  for  a  beaver,  because  his  stern  parent  drew  the 
line  there.  He  pleaded  that  English  lads  of  ten  wore 
them  and  were  ' '  no  end  nobby  ;  "  but  his  mother  only 
answered,  with  a  consoling  pat  of  the  yellow  mane,  — 

"  My  child,  you  are  absurd  enough  now  ;  if  I  let  you 
add  a  tall  hat,  Plumfield  wouldn't  hold  either  of  us, 
such  would  be  the  scorn  and  derision  of  all  beholders. 
Content  yourself  with  looking  like  the  ghost  of  a  waiter, 
and  don't  ask  for  the  most  ridiculous  head-gear  in  the 
known  world." 

Denied  this  noble  badge  of  manhood,  Ted  soothed  his 
wounded  soul  b}r  appearing  in  collars  of  an  amazing 
height  and  stiffness,  and  ties  which  were  the  wonder  of 
all  female  eyes.  This  freak  was  a  sort  of  vengeance 
on  his  hard-hearted  mother ;  for  the  collars  drove  the 
laundress  to  despair,  never  being  just  right,  and  the 
ties  required  such  art  in  the  t}Ting  that  three  women 


CLASS  DAY.  297 

sometimes  labored  long  before  —  like  Beau  Brummel  — ■ 
he  turned  from  a  heap  of  "  failures"  with  the  welcome 
words,  "That  will  do."  Rob  was  devoted  on  these 
trying  occasions,  his  own  toilet  being  distinguished  only 
by  its  speed,  simplicity,  and  neatness.  Ted  was  usually 
in  a  frenzy  before  he  was  suited,  and  roars,  whistles, 
commands,  and  groans  were  heard  from  the  den  wherein 
the  Lion  raged  and  the  Lamb  patiently  toiled.  Mrs. 
Jo  bore  it  till  boots  were  hurled  and  a  rain  of  hair- 
brushes set  in,  then,  fearing  for  the  safety  of  her  eldest, 
she  would  go  to  the  rescue,  and  by  a  wise  mixture  of 
fun  and  authority  finally  succeed  in  persuading  Ted 
that  he  was,  "  a  thing  of  beauty,"  if  not  "  a  joy  for- 
ever." At  last  he  would  stalk  majestically  forth,  im- 
prisoned in  collars  compared  to  which  those  worn  by 
Dickens's  afflicted  Biler  were  trifles  not  worth  men- 
tioning. The  dress-coat  was  a  little  loose  in  the  shoulders, 
but  allowed  a  noble  expanse  of  glossy  bosom  to  be  seen, 
and  with  a  delicate  handkerchief  negligently  drooping 
at  the  proper  angle,  had  a  truly  fine  effect.  Boots  that 
shone,  and  likewise  pinched,  appeared  at  one  end  of 
the  "  long,  black  clothes-pin,"  —  as  Josie  called  him,  — 
and  a  youthful  but  solemn  face  at  the  other,  carried 
at  an  angle  which,  if  long  continued,  would  have  re- 
sulted in  spinal  curvature.  Light  gloves,  a  cane,  and  — 
oh,  bitter  drop  in  the  cup  of  jo}T !  —  an  ignominious 
straw  hat,  not  to  mention  a  choice  floweret  in  the  button- 
hole, and  a  festoon  of  watch-guard  below,  finished  off 
this  impressive  boy. 

"  How's  that  for  style?"  he  asked,  appearing  to  his 
mother  and  cousins  whom  he  was  to  escort  to  the  hall 
on  this  particular  occasion. 


298  JO'S  BOYS. 

A  shout  of  laughter  greeted  him,  followed  by  excla- 
mations of  horror ;  for  he  had  artfully  added  the  little 
blond  moustache  he  often  wore  when  acting.  It  was 
very  becoming,  and  seemed  the  only  balm  to  heal  the 
wound  made  b}"  the  loss  of  the  beloved  hat. 

"  Take  it  off  this  moment,  you  audacious  boy  !  What 
would  your  father  say  to  such  a  prank  on  this  day  when 
we  must  all  behave  our  best?  "  said  Mrs.  Jo,  tr}4ng  to 
frown,  but  privately  thinking  that  among  the  many 
3Touths  about  her  none  was  so  beautiful  and  original  as 
her  long  son. 

"  Let  him  wear  it,  Aunty  ;  it's  so  becoming.  No  one 
will  ever  guess  he  is  n't  eighteen  at  least,"  cried  Josie, 
to  whom  disguise  of  any  sort  was  always  charming. 

"Father  won't  observe  it;  he'll  be  absorbed  in  his 
big- wigs  and  the  girls.  No  matter  if  he  does,  he'll 
enjoy  the  joke  and  introduce  me  as  his  oldest  son.  Rob 
is  nowhere  when  I  'm  in  full  fig ; "  and  Ted  took  the 
stage  with  a  tragic  stalk,  like  Hamlet  in  a  tail-coat  and 
choker. 

"  My  son,  obe}^  me  !  "  and  when  Mrs.  Jo  spoke  in  that 
tone  her  word  was  law.  Later,  however,  the  moustache 
appeared,  and  many  strangers  firmly  believed  that  there 
were  three  young  Bhaers.  So  Ted  found  one  ray  of  joy 
to  light  his  gloom. 

Mr.  Bhaer  was  a  proud  and  happy  man  when,  at  the 
appointed  hour,  he  looked  down  upon  the  parterre  of 
youthful  faces  before  him,  thinking  of  the  "little  gar- 
dens "  in  which  he  had  hopefully  and  faithfully  sowed 
good  seed  years  ago,  and  from  which  this  beautiful  har- 
vest seemed  to  have  sprung.  Mr.  March's  fine  old  face 
shone  with  the  serenest  satisfaction,  for  this  was  the 


CLASS  DAY.  299 

dream  of  his  life  fulfilled  after  patient  waiting ;  and  the 
love  and  reverence  in  the  countenances  of  the  eager 
young  men  and  women  looking  up  at  him  plainly  showed 
that  the  reward  he  coveted  was  his  in  fullest  measure. 
Laurie  always  effaced  himself  on  these  occasions  as 
much  as  courtesy  would  permit ;  for  every  one  spoke 
gratefully  in  ode,  poem,  and  oration  of  the  founder  of 
the  college  and  the  noble  dispenser  of  his  beneficence. 
The  three  sisters  beamed  with  pride  as  they  sat  among 
the  ladies,  enjoying,  as  only  women  can,  the  honor  done 
the  men  they  loved  ;  while  "  the  original  Plums,"  as  the 
younger  ones  called  themselves,  regarded  the  whole 
affair  as  their  work,  receiving  the  curious,  admiring, 
or  envious  glances  of  strangers  with  a  mixture  of  dig- 
nity and  delight  rather  comical  to  behold. 

The  music  was  excellent,  and  well  it  might  be  when 
Apollo  waved  the  baton.  The  poems  were — as  usual  on 
such  occasions  —  of  varied  excellence,  as  the  }Touthful 
speakers  tried  to  put  old  truths  into  new  words,  and 
made  them  forceful  by  the  enthusiasm  of  their  earnest 
faces  and  fresh  voices.  It  was  beautiful  to  see  the 
eager  interest  with  which  the '  girls  listened  to  some 
brilliant  brother- student,  and  applauded  him  with  a 
rustle  as  of  wind  over  a  bed  of  flowers.  It  was  still 
more  significant  and  pleasant  to  watch  the  young  men's 
faces  when  a  slender  white  figure  stood  out  against  the 
background  of  black-coated  dignitaries,  and  with  cheeks 
that  flushed  and  paled,  and  lips  that  trembled  till  ear- 
nest purpose  conquered  maiden  fear,  spoke  to  them 
straight  out  of  a  woman's  heart  and  brain  concerning 
the  hopes  and  doubts,  the  aspirations  and  rewards 'all 
must  know,  desire,  and  labor  for.     This  clear,  sweet 


300  JO'S  BOYS. 

voice  seemed  to  reach  and  rouse  all  that  was  noblest  in 
the  souls  of  these  youths,  and  to  set  a  seal  upon  the 
years  of  comradeship  which  made  them  sacred  and 
memorable  forever. 

Alice  Heath's  oration  was  unanimously  pronounced 
the  success  of  the  day ;  for  without  being  flower}7  or 
sentimental,  as  is  too  apt  to  be  the  case  with  these  first 
efforts  of  youthful  orators,  it  was  earnest,  sensible,  and 
»so  inspiring  that  she  left  the  stage  in  a  storm  of  ap- 
plause, the  good  fellows  being  as  much  fired  b}T  her  stir- 
ring appeal  to  "  march  shoulder  to  shoulder,"  as  if  she 
had  chanted  the  "  Marseillaise"  then  and  there.  One 
young  man  was  so  excited  that  he  nearly  rushed  out  of 
his  seat  to  receive  her  as  she  hastened  to  hide  herself 
among  her  mates,  who  welcomed  her  with  faces  full  of 
tender  pride  and  tearful  eyes.  A  prudent  sister  de- 
tained him,  however,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  able  to 
listen  with  composure  to  the  President's  remarks. 

They  were  worth  listening  to,  for  Mr.  Bhaer  spoke 
like  a  father  to  the  children  whom  he  was  dismissing  to 
the  battle  of  life ;  and  his  tender,  wise,  and  helpful 
words  lingered  in  their  hearts  long  after  the  praise  was 
forgotten.  Then  came  other  exercises  peculiar  to  Plum- 
field,  and  the  end.  Why  the  roof  did  not  fly  off  when 
the  sturdy  lungs  of  the  excited  young  men  pealed  out 
the  closing  hymn  will  forever  be  a  mystery  ;  but  it  re- 
mained firm,  and  only  the  fading  garlands  vibrated  as 
the  waves  of  music  rolled  up  and  died  away,  leaving 
sweet  echoes  to  haunt  the  place  for  another  year. 

Dinners  and  spreads  consumed  the  afternoon,  and  at 
sunset  came  a  slight  lull  as  every  one  sought  some  brief 
repose  before  the  festivities  of  the  evening  began.     The 


CLASS  DAY.  301 

President's  reception  was  one  of  the  enjoyable  things 
in  store,  also  dancing  on  Parnassus,  and  as  much 
strolling,  singing,  and  flirting,  as  could  be  compressed 
into  a  few  hours  by  youths  and  maidens  just  out  of 
school. 

Carriages  were  rolling  about,  and  gay  groups  on 
piazzas,  lawns,  and  window-seats  idly  speculated  as  to 
who  the  distinguished  guests  might  be.  The  appear- 
ance of  a  very  dusty  vehicle  loaded  with  trunks  at  Mr. 
Bhaer's  hospitably  open  door  caused  much  curious  com- 
ment among  the  loungers,  especially  as  two  rather  for- 
eign-looking gentlemen  sprung  out,  followed  by  two 
young  ladies,  all  four  being  greeted  with  cries  of  joy 
and  much  embracing  b}T  the  Bliaers.  Then  they  all  dis- 
appeared into  the  house,  the  luggage  followed,  and  the 
watchers  were  left  to  wonder  who  the  mysterious  stran- 
gers were,  till  a  fair  collegian  declared  that  they  must 
be  the  Professor's  nephews,  one  of  whom  was  expected 
on  his  wedding  journey. 

She  was  right ;  Franz  proudly  presented  his  blonde 
and  buxom  bride,  and  she  was  hardly  kissed  and  blessed 
when  Emil  led  up  his  bonny  English  Mary,  with  the 
rapturous  announcement,  — 

"Uncle,  Aunt  Jo,  here's  another  daughter!  Have 
you  room  for  my  wife,  too?" 

There  could  be  no  doubt  of  that ;  and  Mary  was  with 
difficulty  rescued  from  the  glad  embraces  of  her  new 
relatives,  who,  remembering  all  the  young  pair  had  suf- 
fered together,  felt  that  this  was  the  natural  and  happy 
ending  of  the  long  voyage  so  perilously  begun. 

"But  why  not  tell  us,  and  let  us  be  ready  for  two 
brides   instead  of  one?"  asked   Mrs.  Jo,  looking   as 


302  JO'S  BOYS. 

usual  rather  demoralized  in  a  wrapper  and  crimping- 
pins,  having  rushed  down  from  her  chamber,  where  she 
was  preparing  for  the  labors  of  the  evening. 

"  Well,  I  remembered  what  a  good  joke  you  all  con- 
sidered Uncle  Laurie's  marriage,  and  I  thought  I  'd  give 
you  another  nice  little  surprise,"  laughed  Emil.  "I'm 
off  duty,  and  it  seemed  best  to  take  advantage  of  wind 
and  tide,  and  come  along  as  convoy  to  the  old  boy 
here.  We  hoped  to  get  in  last  night,  but  could  n't 
fetch  it,  so  here  we  are  in  time  for  the  end  of  the  jollifi- 
cation, any  way." 

"Ah,  my  sons,  it  is  too  feeling-full  to  see  you  both 
so  happy  and  again  in  the  old  home.  I  haf  no  words 
to  outpour  m}T  gratitude,  and  can  only  ask  of  the  dear 
Gott  in  Himmel  to  bless  and  keep  you  all,"  cried  Pro- 
fessor Bhaer,  trying  to  gather  all  four  into  his  arms  at 
once,  while  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  and  his  Eng- 
lish failed  him. 

An  April  shower  cleared  the  air  and  relieved  the  full 
hearts  of  the  happ}T  family ;  then  of  course  every  one 
began  to  talk, — Franz  and  Ludmilla  in  German  with 
the  uncle,  Emil  and  Mary  with  the  aunts  ;  and  round 
this  group  gathered  the  3Toung  folk,  clamoring  to  hear 
all  about  the  wreck,  and  the  rescue,  and  the  homeward 
voyage.  It  was  a  very  different  storj7  from  the  written 
one ;  and  as  the}7  listened  to  Emil's  graphic  words,  with 
Marj^'s  soft  voice  breaking  in  now  and  then  to  add 
some  fact  that  brought  out  the  courage,  patience,  and 
self-sacrifice  he  so  lightry  touched  upon,  it  became  a 
solemn  and  pathetic  thing  to  see  and  hear  these  happy 
creatures  tell  of  that  great  danger  and  deliverance. 

"  I  never  hear  the  patter  of  rain  now  that  I  don't 


CLASS  DAY.  303 

♦sraiit  to  say  my  prayers  ;  and  as  for  women,  I'd  like  to 
take  my  hat  off  to  every  one  of  em,  for  they  are  braver 
than  any  man  I  ever  saw,"  said  Emil,  with  the  new 
gravity  that  was  as  becoming  to  him  as  the  new  gentle- 
ness with  which  he  treated  every  one. 

"If  women  are  brave,  some  men  are  as  tender  and 
self-sacrificing  as  women.  I  know  one  who  in  the  night 
slipped  his  share  of  food  into  a  girl's  pocket,  though 
starving  himself,  and  sat  for  hours  rocking  a  sick  man 
in  his  arms  that  he  might  get  a  little  sleep.  No,  love, 
I  will  tell,  and  you  must  let  me  !  "  cried  Mary,  holding 
in  both  her  own  the  hand  he  laid  on  her  lips  to  silence 
her. 

"  Only  did  my  duty.  If  that  torment  had  lasted 
much  longer  I  might  have  been  as  bad  as  poor  Barry 
and  the  boatswain.  Wasn't  that  an  awful  night?" 
And  Emil  shuddered  as  he  recalled  it. 

"  Don't  think  of  it,  dear.  Tell  about  the  happy  days 
on  the  '  Urania,'  when  papa  grew  better  and  we  were 
all  safe  and  homeward  bound,"  said  Mary,  with  the  trust- 
ing look  and  comforting  touch  which  seemed  to  banish 
the  dark  and  recall  the  bright  side  of  that  terrible 
experience. 

Emil  cheered  up  at  once,  and  sitting  with  his  arm 
about  his  "dear  lass,"  in  true  sailor  fashion  told  the 
happy  ending  of  the  tale. 

"Such  a  jolly  old  time  as  we  had  at  Hamburg. 
Uncle  Hermann  could  n't  do  enough  for  the  captain,  and 
while  mamma  took  care  of  him,  Mary  looked  after  me. 
I  had  to  go  into  dock  for  repairs  ;  fire  hurt  nry  ej'es, 
and  watching  for  a  sail  and  want  of  sleep  made  'em  as 
hazy  as  a  London  fog.     She  was  pilot  and  brought  me 


304  JO'S  BOYS. 

in  all  right,  jon  see,  only  I  could  n't  part  company,  sg 
she  came  aboard  as  first  mate,  and  I  'm  bound  straight 
for  glo^  now." 

1  'Hush!  that's  silly,  dear,"  whispered  Mary,  trying 
in  her  turn  to  stop  him,  with  English  shyness  about 
tender  topics.  But  he  took  the  soft  hand  in  his,  and 
proudly  surveying  the  one  ring  it  wore,  went  on  with 
the  air  of  an  admiral  aboard  his  flagship. 

"The  captain  proposed  waiting  a  spell;  but  I  told 
him  we  were  n't  likely  to  see  any  rougher  weather  than 
we  'd  pulled  through  together,  and  if  we  did  n't  know 
one  another  after  such  a  year  as  this,  we  never  should. 
I  was  sure  I  should  n't  be  worth  my  pay  without  this 
hand  on  the  wheel ;  so  I  had  my  way,  and  nry  brave 
little  woman  has  shipped  for  the  long  vo}Tage.  God 
bless  her ! " 

"  Shall  you  really  sail  with  him?"  asked  Daisy,  ad- 
miring her  courage,  but  shrinking  with  cat-like  horror 
from  the  water. 

"I'm  not  afraid,"  answered  Mary,  with  a  loyal  smile. 
"  I've  proved  my  captain  in  fair  weather  and  in  foul, 
and  if  he  is  ever  wrecked  again,  I'd  rather  be  with  him 
than  waiting  and  watching  ashore." 

"  A  true  woman,  and  a  born  sailor's  wife  !  You  are 
a  happy  man,  Emil,  and  I  'm  sure  this  trip  will  be  a 
prosperous  one,"  cried  Mrs.  Jo,  delighted  with  the 
briny  flavor  of  this  courtship.  "  Oh,  my  dear  boy,  I 
always  felt  you'd  come  back,  and  when  eve^  one  else 
despaired  I  never  gave  up,  but  insisted  that  you  were 
clinging  to  the  main-top  jib  somewhere  on  that  dreadful 
sea ; "  and  Mrs.  Jo  illustrated  her  faith  by  grasping 
Emil  with  a  truly  Pillycoddian  gestureo 


CLASS  DAY.  305 

"  Of  course  I  was  !  "  answered  Emil,  heartily;  "and 
my  '  main-top  jib  '  in  this  case  was  the  thought  of  what 
you  and  uncle  said  to  me.  That  kept  me  up ;  and 
among  the  million  thoughts  that  came  to  me  during 
those  lone  nights  none  was  clearer  than  the  idea  of  the 
red  strand,  you  remember,  —  English  navy,  and  all  that. 
I  liked  the  notion,  and  resolved  that  if  a  bit  of  my 
cable  was  left  afloat,  the  red  stripe  should  be  there." 

"  And  it  was,  my  dear,  it  was  !  Captain  Hardy  tes- 
tifies to  that,  and  here  is  your  reward;  "  and  Mrs.  Jo 
kissed  Mary  with  a  maternal  tenderness  which  betrayed 
that  she  liked  the  English  rose  better  than  the  blue- 
eyed  German  Korn-blumen,  sweet  and  modest  though 
it  was. 

Emil  surveyed  this  little  ceremony  with  complacency, 
saying,  as  he  looked  about  the  room  which  he  never 
thought  to  see  again,  "  Odd  is  n't  it,  how  clearly  trifles 
come  back  to  one  in  times  of  danger?  As  we  floated 
there,  half-starved  and  in  despair,  I  used  to  think  I  heard 
the  beUs  ringing  here,  and  Ted  tramping  downstairs, 
and  you  calling,  '  Boys,  boys,  it 's  time  to  get  up  ! '  I 
actually  smelt  the  coffee  we  used  to  have,  and  one  night 
I  nearly  cried  when  I  woke  from  a  dream  of  Asia's  gin- 
ger cookies.  I  declare,  it  was  one  of  the  bitterest  dis- 
appointments of  my  life  to  face  hunger  with  that  spicy 
smell  in  my  nostrils.  If  you  've  got  any,  do  give  me 
one!" 

A  pitiful  murmur  broke  from  all  the  aunts  and  cous- 
ins, and  Emil  was  at  once  borne  away  to  feast  on  the 
desired  cookies,  a  supply  always  being  on  hand.  Mrs. 
Jo  and  her  sister  joined  the  other  group,  glad  to  hear 
what  Franz  was  saying  about  Nat. 

20 


306  JO'S  BOYS. 

1  'The  minute  I  saw  how  thin  and  shabby  he  was,  I 
knew  that  something  was  wrong ;  but  he  made  light  of 
it,  and  was  so  happ}*  over  our  visit  and  news  that  I 
let  him  off  with  a  brief  confession,  and  went  to  Profes- 
sor Baumgarten  and  Bergmann.  From  them  I  learned 
the  whole  story  of  his  spending  more  money  than  he 
ought  and  trying  to  atone  for  it  bj^  unnecessaiy  work 
and  sacrifice.  Baumgarten  thought  it  would  do  him 
good,  so  kept  his  secret  till  I  came.  It  did  do  him 
good,  and  he's  paid  his  debts  and  earned  his  bread  by 
the  sweat  of  his  brow,  like  an  honest  fellow." 

"  I  like  that  much  in  Nat.  It  is,  as  I  said,  a  lesson, 
and  he  learns  it  well.  He  proves  himself  a  man,  and 
has  deserved  the  place  Bergmann  offers  him,"  said  Mr. 
Bhaer,  looking  well  pleased  as  Franz  added  some  facts 
already  recorded. 

"  I  told  you,  Meg,  that  he  had  good  stuff  in  him,  and 
love  for  Daisy  would  keep  him  straight.  Dear  lad,  I 
wish  I  had  him  here  this  moment !  "  cried  Mrs.  Jo,  for- 
getting in  delight  the  doubts  and  anxieties  which  had 
troubled  her  for  months  past. 

"I  am  very  glad,  and  suppose  I  shall  give  in  as  I 
always  do,  especially  now  that  the  epidemic  rages  so 
among  us.  You  and  Emil  have  set  all  their  heads  in  a 
ferment,  and  Josie  will  be  demanding  a  lover  before  I 
can  turn  round,"  answered  Mrs.  Meg,  in  a  tone  of 
despair. 

But  her  sister  saw  that  she  was  touched  by  Nat's  trials, 
and  hastened  to  add  the  triumphs,  that  the  victory  might 
be  complete  ;  for  success  is  always  charming. 

*'  This  offer  of  Herr  Bergmann  is  a  good  one,  isn't 
it?"  she  asked,  though  Mrc  Laurie  had  already  sat- 


CLASS  DAY.  307 

isfied  her  on  that  point  when  Nat's  letter  brought  the 
news. 

' '  Verj^  fine  in  every  way.  Nat  will  get  capital  drill 
in  Bachmeister's  orchestra,  see  London  in  a  delightful 
way,  and  if  he  suits  come  home  with  them,  well  started 
among  the  violins.  No  great  honor,  but  a  sure  thing 
and  a  step  up.  I  congratulated  him,  and  he  was  very 
jolly  over  it,  saying,  like  the  true  lover  he  is,  'Tell 
Dais}' ;  be  sure  and  tell  her  all  about  it.'  I'll  leave  that 
to  you,  Aunt  Meg,  and  you  can  also  break  it  gently  to 
her  that  the  old  boy  has  a  fine  blond  beard.  Very 
becoming ;  hides  his  weak  mouth,  and  gives  a  noble 
air  to  his  big  eyes  and  '  Mendelssohnian  brow/  as  a 
gushing  girl  called  it.  Ludmilla  has  a  photo  of  it  for 
you." 

This  amused  them ;  and  they  listened  to  many  other 
interesting  bits  of  news  which  kind  Franz,  even  in  his 
own  happiness,  had  not  forgotten  to  remember  for  his 
friend's  sake.  He  talked  so  well,  and  painted  Nat's 
patient  and  pathetic  shifts  so  vividly,  that  Mrs.  Meg  was 
half  won  ;  though  if  she  had  learned  of  the  Minna  epi- 
sode and  the  fiddling  in  beer-gardens  and  streets,  she 
might  not  have  relented  so  soon.  She  stored  up  all  she 
heard,  however,  and,  woman-like,  promised  herself  a  de- 
licious talk  with  Dais}T,  in  which  she  would  allow  herself 
to  melt  bj-  degrees,  and  perhaps  change  the  doubtful 
"We  shall  see"  to  a  cordial  "He  has  done  well;  be 
happy,  dear." 

In  the  midst  of  this  agreeable  chat  the  sudden  striking 
of  a  clock  recalled  Mrs.  Jo  from  romance  to  reality,  and 
she  exclaimed,  with  a  clutch  at  her  crimping-pins,  — 

*'  My  blessed  people,  you  nvust  eat  and  rest ;  and  I 


308  JO'S  BOYS. 

must  dress,  or  receive  in  this  disgraceful  rig.  Meg,  will 
you  take  Ludmilla  and  Mary  upstairs  and  see  to  them  ? 
Franz  knows  the  way  to  the  dining-room.  Fritz,  come 
with  me  and  be  made  tidy,  for  what  with  heat  and  emo- 
tion,, we  are  both  perfect  wrecks." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
WHITE  ROSES. 

WHILE  the  travellers  refreshed,  and  Mrs.  Presi- 
dent struggled  into  her  best  gown,  Josie  ran 
into  the  garden  to  gather  flowers  for  the  brides.  The 
sudden  arrival  of  these  interesting  beings  had  quite 
enchanted  the  romantic  girl,  and  her  head  was  full  of 
heroic  rescues,  tender  admiration,  dramatic  situations, 
and  feminine  wonder  as  to  whether  the  lovely  creatures 
would  wear  their  veils  or  not.  She  was  standing  before 
a  great  bush  of  white  roses,  culling  the  most  perfect  for 
the  bouquets  which  she  meant  to  tie  with  the  white 
ribbon  festooned  over  her  arm,  and  lay  on  the  toilette- 
tables  of  the  new  cousins,  as  a  delicate  attention. 
A  step  startled  her,  and  looking  up  she  saw  her 
brother  coming  down  the  path  with  folded  arms, 
bent  head,  and  the  absent  air  of  one  absorbed  in 
deep  thought. 

"  Sophy  Wackles,"  said  the  sharp  child,  with  a  supe- 
rior smile,  as  she  sucked  her  thumb  just  pricked  by  a 
too  eager  pull  at  the  thorny  branches. 

"  What  are  you  at  here,  Mischief?"  asked  Demi,  with 
an  Irvingesque  start,  as  he  felt  rather  than  saw  a  dis- 
turbing influence  in  his  day-dream. 


310  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  Getting  flowers  for  '  our  brides.'  Don't  you  wish 
you  had  one ? "  answered  Josie,  to  whom  the  word  "mis- 
chief" suggested  her  favorite  amusement. 

"A  bride  or  a  flower?"  asked  Demi,  cahnly,  though 
he  eyed  the  blooming  bush  as  if  it  had  a  sudden  and 
unusual  interest  for  him. 

"  Both  ;  you  get  the  one,  and  I  '11  give  you  the  other." 

"  Wish  I  could  !  "  and  Demi  picked  a  little  bud,  with 
a  sigh  that  went  to  Josie's  warm  heart. 

' '  Why  don't  you  then  ?  It 's  lovely  to  see  people  so 
happy.  Now 's  a  good  time  to  do  it  if  you  ever  mean 
to.     She  will  be  going  away  forever  soon." 

"Who?"  and  Demi  pulled  a  half-opened  bud,  with 
a  sudden  color  in  his  own  face  ;  which  sign  of  confusion 
delighted  little  Jo. 

"Don't  be  a  hypocrite.  You  know  I  mean  Alice. 
Now,  Jack,  I  'm  fond  of  }*ou,  and  want  to  help ;  it 's  so 
interesting,  —  all  these  lovers  and  weddings  and  things, 
and  we  ought  to  have  our  share.  So  you  take  my  ad- 
vice and  speak  up  like  a  man,  and  make  sure  of  Alice 
before  she  goes." 

Demi  laughed  at  the  seriousness  of  the  small  girl's 
advice ;  but  he  liked  it,  and  showed  that  it  suited  him 
by  sayiug  blandly,  instead  of  snubbing  her  as  usual,  — ■ 

"You  are  very  kind,  child.  Since  you  are  so  wise, 
could  3Tou  give  me  a  hint  how  I  'd  better  '  speak  up,' 
as  you  elegantly  express  it  ?  " 

"Oh,  well,  there  are  various  ways,  3^ou  know.  In 
plays  the  lovers  go  down  on  their  knees  ;  but  that 's  awk- 
ward when  they  have  long  legs.  Ted  never  does  it 
well,  though  I  drill  him  for  hours.  You  could  say,  '  Be 
mine,  be  mine  ! '  like  the  old  man  who  threw  cucumbers 


WHITE  ROSES.  311 

over  the  wall  to  Mrs.  Nickleby,  if  you  want  to  be  gay 
and  easy;  or  you  could  write  a  poetical  pop.  You've 
tried  it,  I  dare  say." 

"But  seriously,  Jo,  I  do  love  Alice,  and  I  think  she 
knows  it.  I  want  to  tell  her  so ;  but  I  lose  my  head 
when  I  try,  and  don't  care  to  make  a  fool  of  myself. 
Thought  you  might  suggest  some  pretty  way ;  you  read 
so  much  poetry  and  are  so  romantic." 

Demi  tried  to  express  himself  clearly,  but  forgot  his 
dignity  and  his  usual  reserve  in  the  sweet  perplexity  of 
his  love,  and  asked  his  little  sister  to  teach  him  how  to 
put  the  question  which  a  single  word  can  answer.  The 
arrival  of  his  happy  cousins  had  scattered  all  his  wise 
plans  and  brave  resolutions  to  wait  still  longer.  The 
Christmas  play  had  given  him  courage  to  hope,  and  the 
oration  to-day  had  filled  him  with  tender  pride  ;  but  the 
sight  of  those  blooming  brides  and  beaming  grooms  was 
too  much  for  him,  and  he  panted  to  secure  his  Alice 
without  an  hour's  delay.  Daisy  was  his  confidante  in 
all  things  but  this  ;  a  brotherly  feeling  of  sympathy  had 
kept  him  from  telling  her  his  hopes,  because  her  own 
were  forbidden.  His  mother  was  rather  jealous  of  any 
girl  he  admired ;  but  knowing  that  she  liked  Alice,  he 
loved  on  and  enjoyed  his  secret  alone,  meaning  soon  to 
tell  her  all  about  it. 

Now  suddenly  Josie  and  the  rose-bush  seemed  to  sug- 
gest a  speedy  end  to  his  tender  perplexities  ;  and  he  was 
moved  to  accept  her  aid  as  the  netted  lion  did  that  of 
the  mouse. 

"  I  think  I'll  write,"  he  was  slowly  beginning,  after 
a  pause  during  which  both  were  trying  to  strike  out  a 
new  and  brilliant  idea* 


312  JO'S  BOYS, 

"I've  got  it!  perfectly  lovely!  just  suit  her,  and 
you  too,  being  a  poet ! "  cried  Josie,  with  a  skip. 

"  What  is  it?  Don't  be  ridiculous,  please,"  begged 
ihe  bashful  lover,  eager,  but  afraid  of  this  sharp-tongued 
"Vit  of  womanhood. 

"I  read  in  one  of  Miss  Edgeworth's  stories  about  a 
man  who  offers  three  roses  to  his  lady,  —  a  bud,  a  half- 
blown,  and  a  full-blown  rose.  I  don't  remember  which 
she  took  ;  but  it 's  a  pretty  way,  and  Alice  knows  about 
it  because  she  was  there  when  we  read  it.  Here  are 
all  kinds ;  you've  got  the  two  buds,  pick  the  sweetest 
rose  you  can  find,  and  I  '11  tie  them  up  and  put  them  in 
her  room.  She  is  coming  to  dress  with  Daisy,  so  I  can 
do  it  nicely." 

Demi  mused  a  moment  with  his  eyes  on  the  bridal 
bush,  and  a  smile  came  over  his  face  so  unlike  an}T  it 
had  ever  worn  before,  that  Josie  was  touched,  and  looked 
away  as  if  she  had  no  right  to  see  the  dawn  of  the  great 
passion  which,  while  it  lasts,  makes  a  young  man  as 
happy  as  a  god. 

"  Do  it,"  was  all  he  said,  and  slowly  gathered  a  full- 
blown rose  to  finish  his  floral  love-message. 

Charmed  to  have  a  finger  in  this  romantic  pie,  Josie 
tied  a  graceful  bow  of  ribbon  about  the  stems  and  fin- 
ished her  last  nosegajT  with  much  content,  while  Demi 
wrote  upon  a  card :  — 

Dear  Alice,  —  You  know  what  the  flowers  mean.  Will 
you  wear  one  or  all  to-night,  and  make  me  still  prouder, 
fonder,  and  happier  than  I  am? 

Yours  entirely,  John. 

Offering  this  to  his  sister,  he  said  in  a  tone  that  made 
her  feel  lu?  deeo  importance  of  her  mission,  — 


WHITE  ROSES.  313 

" 1  trust  you,  Jo.  This  means  everything  to  me.  No 
jokes,  dear,  if  you  love  me." 

Josie's  answer  was  a  kiss  that  promised  all  things ; 
and  then  she  ran  away  to  do  her  "  gentle  spiriting,"  like 
Ariel,  leaving  Demi  to  dream  among  the  roses  like 
Ferdinand. 

Mary  and  Ludmilla  were  charmed  with  their  bouquets  ; 
and  the  giver  had  the  delight  of  putting  some  of  the 
flowers  into  the  dark  hair  and  the  light  as  she  played 
maid  at  the  toilettes  of  "  our  brides,"  which  consoled 
her  for  a  disappointment  in  the  matter  of  veils. 

No  one  helped  Alice  dress ;  for  Daisy  was  in  the 
next  room  with  her  mother ;  and  not  even  their  loving 
eyes  saw  the  welcome  which  the  little  posy  received, 
nor  the  tears  and  smiles  and  blushes  that  came  and 
went  as  she  read  the  note  and  pondered  what  answer 
she  should  give.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the  one 
she  wished  to  give ;  but  duty  held  her  back ;  for  at 
home  there  were  an  invalid  mother  and  an  old  father. 
She  was  needed  there,  with  all  the  help  she  could  now 
bring  by  the  acquirements  four  years  of  faithful  study 
had  given  her.  Love  looked  very  sweet,  and  a  home  of 
her  own  with  John  a  little  heaven  on  earth ;  but  not 
yet.  And  she  slowly  laid  away  the  full-blown  rose 
as  she  sat  before  the  mirror,  thinking  over  the  great 
question  of  her  life. 

Was  it  wise  and  kind  to  ask  him  to  wait,  to  bind  him 
by  any  promise,  or  even  to  put  into  words  the  love  and 
honor  she  felt  for  him  ?  No  ;  it  would  be  more  gener- 
ous to  make  the  sacrifice  alone,  and  spare  him  the  pain 
of  hope  deferred.  He  was  young ;  he  would  forget ; 
and  she  could  do  her  duty  better,  perhaps,  if  no  in** 


314  JO'S  BOYS. 

patient  lover  waited  for  her.  With  eyes  that  saw  but 
dimly,  and  a  hand  that  lingered  on  the  stem  he  had 
stripped  of  thorns,  she  laid  the  half-blown  flower  by  the 
ros4e,  and  asked  herself  if  even  the  little  bud  might  be 
worn.  It  looked  very  poor  and  pale  beside  the  others  ; 
yet  being  in  the  self-sacrificing  mood  which  real  love 
brings,  she  felt  that  even  a  small  hope  was  too  much  to 
give,  if  she  could  not  follow  it  up  with  more. 

As  she  sat  looking  sadly  down  on  the  symbols  of  an 
affection  that  grew  dearer  every  moment,  she  listened 
half  unconsciously  to  the  murmur  of  voices  in  the  ad- 
joining room.  Open  windows,  thin  partitions,  and  the 
stillness  of  summer  twilight  made  it  impossible  to  help 
hearing,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  she  could  not  re- 
frain ;  for  they  were  talking  of  John. 

"  So  nice  of  Ludmilla  to  bring  us  all  bottles  of  real 
German  cologne  !  Just  what  we  need  after  this  tiring 
day  !     Be  sure  John  has  his  !     He  likes  it  so  !  " 

"  Yes,  mother.  Did  you  see  him  jump  up  when 
Alice  ended  her  oration  ?  He  'd  have  gone  to  her  if  I 
had  n't  held  him  back.  I  don't  wonder  he  was  pleased 
and  proud.  I  spoilt  my  gloves  clapping,  and  quite 
forgot  my  dislike  of  seeing  women  on  platforms,  she 
was  so  earnest  and  unconscious  and  sweet  after  the  first 

moment." 

"  Has  he  said  an}Tthing  to  you,  dear?  " 

' '  No ;  and  I  guess  why.  The  kind  boy  thinks  it 
would  make  me  unhapp}7.  It  would  n't.  But  I  know 
his  ways ;  so  I  wait,  and  hope  all  will  go  well  with 
him." 

"It  must.  No  girl  in  her  senses  would  refuse  our 
John,  though  he  is  n't  rich,  and  never  will  be.     Daisy, 


WHITE  ROSES.  315 

I  Ve  been  longing  to  tell  you  what  he  did  with  his 
money.  He  told  me  last  night,  and  I  've  had  no  time 
since  to  tell  you.  He  sent  poor  }7oung  Barton  to  the 
hospital,  and  kept  him  there  till  his  eyes  were  saved,  — 
a  costly  thing  to  do.  But  the  man  can  work  now  and 
care  for  his  old  parents.  He  was  in  despair,  sick  and 
poor,  and  too  proud  to  beg ;  and  our  dear  boy  found  it 
out,  and  took  every  penny  he  had,  and  never  told  even 
his  mother  till  she  made  him." 

Alice  did  not  hear  what  Daisy  answered,  for  she  was 
busy  with  her  own  emotions,  —  happy  ones  now,  to 
judge  from  the  smile  that  shone  in  her  eyes  and  the  de- 
cided gesture  with  which  she  put  the  little  bud  in  her 
bosom,  as  if  she  said,  "  He  deserves  some  reward  for 
that  good  deed,  and  he  shall  have  it." 

Mrs.  Meg  was  speaking,  and  still  of  John,  when  she 
could  hear  again,  — 

"  Some  people  would  call  it  unwise  and  reckless, 
when  John  has  so  little  ;  but  I  think  his  first  investment 
a  safe  and  good  one,  for  '  he  who  giveth  to  the  poor 
lendeth  to  the  Lord  ; '  and  I  was  so  pleased  and  proud, 
I  would  n't  spoil  it  by  offering  him  a  penny." 

"It  is  his  having  nothing  to  offer  that  keeps  him 
silent,  I  think.  He  is  so  honest,  he  won't  ask  till  he 
has  much  to  give.  But  he  forgets  that  love  is  every- 
thing. I  know  he  's  rich  in  that ;  I  see  and  feel  it ;  and 
any  woman  should   be  glad  to  get  it." 

"  Right,  dear.  I  felt  just  so,  and  was  willing  to  work 
and  wait  with  and  for  my  John." 

"  So  she  will  be,  and  I  hope  they  will  find  it  out 
But  she  is  so  dutiful  and  good,  I  'm  afraid  she  won't  '•&% 
herself  be  happy.     You  would  like  it,  mother  ?  " 


316  JO'S  BOYS. 

"Heartily;  for  a  better,  nobler  girl  doesn't  live. 
She  is  all  I  want  for  my  son ;  and  I  don't  mean  to  lose 
the  dear,  brave  creature  if  I  can  help  it.  Her  heart  is 
big  enough  for  both  love  ancf  duty ;  and  they  can  wait 
more  happily  if  they  do  it  together,  —  for  wait  they 
must,  of  course." 

"  I  'm  so  glad  Ms  choice  suits  you,  mother,  and  he  is 
spared  the  saddest  sort  of  disappointment." 

Daisy's  voice  broke  there ;  and  a  sudden  rustle,  fol- 
lowed by  a  soft  murmur,  seemed  to  tell  that  she  was  in 
her  mother's  arms,  seeking  and  finding  comfort  there. 

Alice  heard  no  more,  and  shut  her  window  with  a 
guilty  feeling  but  a  shining  face  ;  for  the  proverb  about 
listeners  failed  here,  and  she  had  learned  more  than  she 
dared  to  hope.  Things  seemed  to  change  suddenly ; 
she  felt  that  her  heart  was  large  enough  for  both  love 
and  duty ;  she  knew  now  that  she  would  be  welcomed 
by  mother  and  sister ;  and  the  memory  of  Daisy's  less 
happy  fate,  Nat's  weary  probation,  the  long  dela}^,  and 
possible  separation  forever,  —  all  came  before  her  so 
vividty  that  prudence  seemed  cruelt}T ;  self-sacrifice,  sen- 
timental folly ,  and  anj'thing  but  the  whole  truth,  dis- 
loyahVy  to  her  lover.  As  she  thought  thus,  the  half-blown 
rose  went  to  join  the  bud  ;  and  then,  after  a  pause,  she 
slowly  kissed  the  perfect  rose,  and  added  it  to  the  tell- 
tale group,  sajing  to  herself  with  a  sort  of  sweet 
solemnity,  as  if  the  words  were  a  vow,  — 

"  I  '11  love  and  work  and  wait  with  and  for  my  John." 

It  was  well  for  her  that  Demi  was  absent  when  she 
stole  down  to  join  the  guests  who  soon  began  to  flow 
through  the  house  in  a  steady  stream.  The  new  bright- 
ness which  touched  her  usually  thoughtful  face  was 


WHITE  ROSES.  317 

easily  explained  by  the  congratulations  she  received  as 
orator,  and  the  slight  agitation  observable  when  a  fresh 
batch  of  gentlemen  approached  soon  passed,  as  none  of 
them  noticed  the  flowers  she  wore  over  a  very  happy 
heart. 

Demi  meantime  was  escorting  certain  venerable  per- 
sonages about  the  college,  and  helping  his  grandfather 
entertain  them  with  discussions  of  the  Socratic  method 
of  instruction,  Pythagoras,  Pestalozzi,  Froebel,  and  the 
rest,  whom  he  devoutly  wished  at  the  bottom  of  the  Red 
Sea ;  and  no  wonder,  for  his  head  and  heart  were  full 
of  love  and  roses,  hopes  and  fears.  He  piloted  the 
"  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  seigniors"  safely  down  to 
Plumfielcl  at  last,  and  landed  them  before  his  uncle  and 
aunt  Bhaer,  who  were  receiving  in  state,  the  one  full  of 
genuine  delight  in  all  men  and  things,  the  other  suffer- 
ing martyrdom  with  a  smile,  as  she  stood  shaking  hand 
after  hand,  and  affecting  utter  unconsciousness  of  the 
sad  fact  that  ponderous  Professor  Plock  had  camped 
upon  the  train  of  her  state  and  festival  velvet  gown. 

With  a  long  sigh  of  relief  Demi  glanced  about  him  for 
the  beloved  girl.  Most  persons  would  have  looked  some 
time  before  any  particular  angel  could  be  discovered 
among  the  white-robed  throng  in  parlors,  hall,  and  study  ; 
but  his  e}Te  went  —  like  the  needle  to  the  pole  —  to  the 
corner  where  a  smooth  dark  head,  with  its  braided  crown, 
rose  like  a  queen's,  he  thought,  above  the  crowd  which 
surrounded  her.  Yes,  she  had  a  flower  at  her  throat ; 
one,  two,  oh,  blessed  sight !  he  saw  it  all  across  the 
room,  and  gave  a  rapturous  sigh  which  caused  Miss 
Perry's  frizzled  crop  to  wave  with  a  sudden  gust.  He 
£'d  not  see  the  rose,  for  it  was  hidden  by  a  fold  of  lace ; 


318  JO'S  BOYS. 

and  it  was  well,  perhaps,  that  bliss  came  by  instalments, 
or  he  might  have  electrified  the  assembled  multitude  by 
flying  to  his  idol,  there  being  no  Daisy  to  clutch  him  by 
the  coat-tail.  A  stout  lady,  thirsting  for  information, 
seized  him  at  that  thrilling  moment,  and  he  was  forced 
to  point  out  celebrities  with  a  saintly  patience  which 
deserved  a  better  reward  than  it  received  ;  for  a  certain 
absence  of  mind  and  incoherence  of  speech  at  times 
caused  the  ungrateful  dowager  to  whisper  to  the  first 
friend  she  met  after  he  had  escaped,  - 

"  I  saw  no  wine  at  any  of  the  spreads  ;  but  it  is  plain 
that  young  Brooke  has  had  too  much.  Quite  gentle- 
manly, but  evidently  a  trifle  intoxicated,  iny  dear." 

Ah,  so  he  was !  but  with  a  diviner  wine  than  any 
that  ever  sparkled  at  a  class-day  lunch,  though  many 
collegians  know  the  taste  of  it ;  and  when  the  old  lady 
was  disposed  of,  he  gladly  turned  to  find  the  young  one, 
bent  on  having  a  single  word.  He  saw  her  standing  by 
the  piano  now,  idly  turning  over  music  as  she  talked 
with  several  gentlemen.  Hi&ing  his  impatience  under 
an  air  of  scholastic  repose,  Demi  hovered  near,  ready  to 
advance  when  the  happy  moment  came,  wondering 
meantime  why  elderly  persons  persisted  in  absorbing 
young  ones  instead  of  sensibly  sitting  in  corners  with 
their  contemporaries.  The  elderly  persons  in  question 
retired  at  length,  but  only  to  be  replaced  by  two  impet- 
uous youths  who  begged  Miss  Heath  to  accompany 
them  to  Parnassus  and  join  the  dance.  Demi  thirsted 
for  their  blood,  but  was  appeased  by  hearing  George 
and  Dolly  say,  as  they  lingered  a  moment  after  her 
refusal,  — 

"  Really,  you  know,  I'm  quite  converted  to  co-educa* 


WHITE  ROSES,  319 

tion  and  almost  wish  I  'd  remained  here.  It  gives  a 
grace  to  study,  a  sort  of  relish  even  to  Greek,  to  see 
charming  girls  at  it,"  said  Stuffy,  who  found  the  feast  of 
learning  so  dry,  any  sauce  was  welcome  ;  and  he  felt  as 
if  he  had  discovered  a  new  one. 

"  Yes,  by  Jove  !  we  fellows  will  have  to  look  out  or 
you'll  carry  off  all  the  honors.  You  were  superb  to-day, 
and  held  us  all  like  magic,  though  it  was  so  hot  there,  I 
really  think  I  could  n't  have  stood  it  for  an}-  one  else," 
added  Doll}',  laboring  to  be  gallant  and  really  offering  a 
touching  proof  of  devotion  ;  for  the  heat  melted  his  col- 
lar, took  the  curl  out  of  his  hair,  and  ruined  his  gloves. 

' '  There  is  room  for  all ;  and  if  you  will  leave  us  the 
books,  we  will  cheerfulty  yield  the  base-ball,  boating, 
dancing,  and  flirting,  which  seem  to  be  the  branches 
you  prefer,"  answered  Alice,  sweetly. 

"Ah,  now  you  are  too  hard  upon  us!  We  can't 
grind  all  the  time ;  and  you  ladies  don't  seem  to  mind 
taking  a  turn  at  the  two  latter  '  branches '  you  mention," 
returned  Dolly,  with  a  glance  at  George  which  plainly 
said,  "  I  had  her  there." 

"  Some  of  us  do  in  our  first  years.  Later  we  give  up 
childish  things,  you  see.  Don't  let  me  keep  you  from 
Parnassus  ;  "  and  a  smiling  nod  dismissed  them,  smart- 
ing under  the  bitter  consciousness  of  }Touth. 

' '  You  got  it  there,  Doll.  Better  not  try  to  fence  with 
these  superior  girls.  Sure  to  be  routed,  horse,  foot, 
and  dragoons,"  said  Stuffy,  lumbering  away,  somewhat 
cross  with  too  many  spreads. 

' '  So  deuced  sarcastic  !  Don't  believe  she  *s  much 
older  than  we  are.  Girls  grow  up  quicker,  so  she 
need  n't  put  on  airs  and  talk  like  a  grandmother,"  mut- 


320  JO'S  BOYS. 

tered  Dolty,  feeling  that  he  had  sacrificed  his  kids  upon 
the  altar  of  an  ungrateful  Pallas. 

"  Corne  along  and  let's  find  something  to  eat.  I'm 
faint  with  so  much  talking.  Old  Plock  cornered  me  and 
made  my  head  spin  with  Kant  and  Hegel  and  that  lot." 

"  I  promised  Dora  West  I'd  give  her  a  turn.  Must 
look  her  up  ;  she 's  a  jolly  little  thing,  and  does  n't  bother 
about  anything  but  keeping  step." 

And  arm  in  arm  the  boys  strolled  away,  leaving 
Alice  to  read  music  as  diligently  as  if  society  had  in- 
deed no  charms  for  her.  As  she  bent  to  turn  a  page, 
the  eager  }X>ung  man  behind  the  piano  saw  the  rose  and 
was  struck  speechless  with  delight.  A  moment  he 
gazed,  then  hastened  to  seize  the  coveted  place  before 
a  new  detachment  of  bores  arrived. 

''Alice,  I  can't  believe  it  —  did  you  understand  — 
how  shall  I  ever  thank  you?"  murmured  Demi,  bending 
as  if  he,  too,  read  the  song,  not  a  note  or  word  of  which 
did  he  see,  however. 

"  Hush  !  not  now.  I  understood  —  I  don't  deserve  it 
—  we  are  too  young,  we  must  wait;  but  —  I'm  very 
proud  and  happy,  John !  " 

What  would  have  happened  after  that  tender  whisper 
I  tremble  to  think,  if  Tom  Bangs  had  not  come  bustling 
up,  with  the  cheerful  remark,  — 

"Music?  just  the  thing.     People  are  thinning  out, 
and  we  all  want  a  little  refreshment.     My  brain  fairly 
reels  with  the  'ologies  and  'isms  I  've  heard  discussed  to 
night.     Yes,  give  us  this  ;  sweet  thing  !     Scotch  songs 
are  always  charming." 

Demi  glowered  ;  but  the  obtuse  boy  never  saw  it,  and 
Alice,  feeling  that  this  would  be  a  safe  vent  for  sundry 


WHITE  ROSES.  321 

unruly  emotions,  sat  down  at  once,  and  sung  the  song 
which  gave  her  answer  better  than  she  could  have 
done : — 

BIDE  A  WEE. 

"  The  puir  auld  folk  at  home,  ye  mindf 

Are  frail  and  failing  sair ; 
And  weel  I  ken  they  'd  miss  me,  lad, 

Gin  I  come  hame  nae  mair. 
The  grist  is  out,  the  times  are  hard, 

The  kine  are  only  three  ; 
I  canna  leave  the  auld  folk  now. 

We  'd  better  bide  a  wee. 

*'  I  fear  me  sair  they  're  failing  baith; 

For  when  I  sit  apart, 
They  talk  o'  Heaven  so  earnestly, 

It  well  nigh  breaks  my  heart. 
So,  laddie,  dinna  urge  me  now, 

It  surely  winna  be ; 
I  canna  leave  the  auld  folk  yet. 

We  'd  better  bide  a  wee." 

The  room  was  very  still  before  the  first  verse  ended5 
and  Alice  skipped  the  next,  fearing  she  could  not  get 
through ;  for  John's  eyes  were  on  her,  showing  that  he 
knew  she  sang  for  him  and  let  the  plaintive  little  ballad 
tell  what  her  reply  must  be.  He  took  it  as  she  meant 
it,  and  smiled  at  her  so  happily  that  her  heart  got  the 
better  of  her  voice,  and  she  rose  abruptly,  saying  some- 
thing about  the  heat. 

"Yes,  you  are  tired  ;  come  out  and  rest,  my  dearest ;  " 
and  with  a  masterful  air  Demi  took  her  into  the  star- 
light, leaving  Tom  to  stare  after  them,  winking  as  if  a 

sky-rocket  had  suddenly  gone  off  under  his  nose, 

21 


822  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  Bless  my  soul!  the  Deacon  really  meant  business 
last  summer  and  never  told  me.  Won't  Dora  laugh  ?  " 
And  Tom  departed  in  hot  haste  to  impart  and  exult 
over  his  discover}^ 

What  was  said  in  the  garden  was  never  exactly 
known  ;  but  the  Brooke  family  sat  up  very  late  that  night, 
and  any  curious  eye  at  the  window  would  have  seen 
Demi  receiving  the  homage  of  his  womankind  as  he 
told  his  little  romance.  Josie  took  great  credit  to  her- 
self in  the  matter,  insisting  that  she  had  made  the 
match ;  Daisy  was  full  of  the  sweetest  sympathy  and 
joy,  and  Mrs.  Meg  so  happj  that  when  Jo  had  gone  to 
dream  of  bridal  veils,  and  Demi  sat  in  his  room  bliss- 
fully playing  the  air  of  "  Bide  a  Wee,"  she  had  her 
talk  about  Nat,  ending  with  her  arms  round  her  dutiful 
daughter  and  these  welcome  words  as  her  reward,  — 

"  Wait  till  Nat  comes  home,  and  then  my  good  girl 
shall  wear  white  roses  too." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

LIFE  FOR   LIFE. 

r  I  "'HE  summer  days  that  followed  were  full  of  rest 
-*■  and  pleasure  for  young  and  old,  as  they  did  the 
honors  of  Plumfield  to  their  happy  guests.  While  Franz 
and  Emil  were  busy  with  the  affairs  of  Uncle  Hermann 
and  Captain  Hardy,  Mary  and  Ludmilla  made  friends 
ever}- where ;  for,  though  very  unlike,  both  were  excel- 
lent and  charming  girls.  Mrs.  Meg  and  Daisy  found 
the  German  bride  a  Haus-frau  after  their  own  hearts, 
and  had  delightful  times  learning  new  dishes,  hearing 
about  the  semi-yearly  washes  and  the  splendid  linen- 
rcom  at  Hamburg,  or  discussing  domestic  life  in  all  its 
branches.  Ludmilla  not  only  taught,  but  learned,  many 
things,  and  went  home  with  many  new  and  useful  ideas 
in  her  blond  head. 

Mary  had  seen  so  much  of  the  world  that  she  was 
unusually  lively  for  an  English  girl ;  while  her  various 
accomplishments  made  her  a  most  agreeable  companion. 
Much  good  sense  gave  her  ballast ;  and  the  late  experi- 
ences of  danger  and  happiness  added  a  sweet  gravit}^  at 
times,  which  contrasted  well  with  her  natural  gayety. 
Mrs.  Jo  was  quite  satisfied  with  Emil's  choice,  and  felt 
sure  this  true  and  tender  pilot  would  bring  him  safe  to 
port  through  fair  or  stormy  weather.     She  had  feared 


324  JO'S  BOYS. 

that  Franz  would  settle  down  into  a  comfortable,  money- 
making  burgher,  and  be  content  with  that ;  but  she 
soon  saw  that  his  love  of  music  and  his  placid  Ludrailla 
put  much  poetry  into  his  busy  life,  and  kept  it  from 
being  too  prosaic.  So  she  felt  at  rest  about  these  boys, 
and  enjoyed  their  visit  with  real,  maternal  satisfaction  ; 
parting  with  them  in  September  most  regretfully,  }Tet 
hopefully,  as  they  sailed  away  to  the  new  life  that  lay 
before  them. 

Demi's  engagement  was  confided  to  the  immediate 
family  only,  as  both  were  pronounced  too  young  to  do 
anything  but  love  and  wait.  The}T  were  so  happy  that 
time  seemed  to  stand  still  for  them,  and  after  a  blissful 
week  they  parted  bravely,  —  Alice  to  home  duties, 
with  a  hope  that  sustained  and  cheered  her  through 
man}T  trials ;  and  John  to  his  business,  full  of  a  new 
ardor  which  made  all  things  possible  when  such  a  re- 
ward was  offered. 

Daisy  rejoiced  over  them,  and  was  never  tired  of 
hearing  her  brother's  plans  for  the  future.  Her  own 
hope  soon  made  her  what  she  used  to  be,  —  a  cheerj^, 
busy  creature,  with  a  smile,  kind  word,  and  helping  hand 
for  all ;  and  as  she  went  singing  about  the  house  again, 
her  mother  felt  that  the  right  remedy  for  past  sadness 
had  been  found.  The  dear  Pelican  still  had  doubts  and 
fears,  but  kept  them  wisely  to  herself,  preparing  sundry 
searching  tests  to  be  applied  when  Nat  came  home,  and 
keeping  a  sharp  eye  on  the  letters  from  London ;  for 
some  mj'sterious  hint  had  flown  across  the  sea,  and 
Daisy's  content  seemed  reflected  in  Nat's  present 
cheerful  state  of  mind. 

Having  passed  through  the  Werther  period,  and  tried 


LIFE  FOR   LIFE.  32£ 

a  little  Faust,  —  of  which  experience  he  spoke  to  his 
Marguerite  as  if  it  had  included  an  acquaintance  with 
Mephistopheles,  Blocksburg,  and  Auerbach's  wine-cellar, 
—  he  now  felt  that  he  was  a  Wilhelrn  Meister,  serving 
his  apprenticeship  to  the  great  masters  of  life.  As  she 
knew  the  truth  of  his  small  sins  and  honest  repentance, 
Daisy  only  smiled  at  the  mixture  of  love  and  philosophy 
he  sent  her,  knowing  that  it  was  impossible  for  a  young 
man  to  live  in  German}'  without  catching  the  German 
spirit. 

"  His  heart  is  all  right ;  and  his  head  will  soon  grow 
clear  when  he  gets  out  of  the  fog  of  tobacco,  beer,  and 
metaphysics  he 's  been  living  in.  England  will  wake 
up  his  common-sense,  and  good  salt  air  blow  his  little 
follies  all  away,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  much  pleased  with  the 
good  prospects  of  her  violinist,  —  whose  return  was  de- 
layed till  spring,  to  his  private  regret,  but  professional 
advancement. 

Josie  had  a  month  with  Miss  Cameron  at  the  sea-side, 
and  threw  herself  so  heartily  into  the  lessons  given  her 
that  her  energy,  promise,  and  patience  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  a  friendship  which  was  of  infinite  value  to  her  in 
the  bus}',  brilliant  years  to  come  ;  for  little  Jo's  instincts 
were  right ;  and  the  dramatic  talent  of  the  Marches  was 
to  blossom  by  and  by  into  an  actress  famous,  virtuous, 
and  beloved. 

Tom  and  his  Dora  were  peacefully  ambling  altarward  ; 
for  Bangs  senior  was  so  afraid  his  son  would  change  his 
mind  again,  and  try  a  third  profession,  that  he  gladly 
consented  to  an  early  marriage,  as  a  sort  of  anchor  to 
hold  the  mercurial  Thomas  fast.  Aforesaid  Thomas 
could  not  complain  of  cold  shoulders  now  ;  for  Dora  was 


326  JO'S  BOYS. 

a  most  devoted  and  adoring  little  mate,  and  made  life 
so  pleasant  to  him  that  his  gift  for  getting  into  scrapes 
seemed  lost,  and  he  bade  fair  to  become  a  thriving  man, 
with  undeniable  talent  for  the  business  he  had  chosen. 

"We  shall  be  married  in  the  autumn,  and  live  with 
my  father  for  a  while.  The  governor  is  getting  on,  you 
know,  and  my  wife  and  I  must  look  after  him.  Later 
we  shall  have  an  establishment  of  our  own,"  was  a 
favorite  speech  of  his  about  this  time,  and  usually  re- 
ceived with  smiles ;  for  the  idea  of  Tommy  Bangs  at 
the  head  of  an  "  establishment"  was  irresistibly  funny 
to  all  who  knew  him. 

Things  were  in  this  flourishing  condition,  and  Mis. 
Jo  was  beginning  to  think  her  trials  were  over  for  that 
year,  when  a  new  excitement  came.  Several  postal- 
cards  had  arrived  at  long  intervals  from  Dan,  who  gave 
them  "  Care  of  M.  Mason,  etc.,"  as  his  address.  By 
this  means  he  was  able  to  gratify  his  longing  for  home 
news,  and  to  send  brief  messages  to  quiet  their  surprise 
at  his  delay  in  settling.  The  last  one,  which  came  in 
September,  was  dated  "Montana,"  and  simply  said  :  — 

Here  at  last,  trying  mining  again;  but  not  going  to  stay 
long.  All  sorts  of  luck.  Gave  up  the  farm  idea.  Tell  plans 
soon.     Well,  busy,  and  very  happy. 

D.  K. 

If  they  had  known  what  the  heavy  dash  under 
"happy"  meant,  that  postal  would  have  been  a  very 
eloquent  bit  of  pasteboard  ;  for  Dan  was  free,  and  had 
gone  straight  away  to  the  liberty  he  panted  for.  Meet- 
ing an  old  friend  by  accident,  he  obliged  him  at  a  pinch 
by  acting  as  overseer  for  a  time,  finding  the  society  even 
of  rough  miners  very  sweet,  and  something  in  the  mus- 


LIFE  FOR  LIFE.  327 

cular  work  wonderfully  pleasant,  after  being  cooped  up 
in  the  brush-shop  so  long.  He  loved  to  take  a  pick 
and  wrestle  with  rock  and  earth  till  he  was  weary,  — 
which  was  very  soon ;  for  that  year  of  captivity  had 
told  upon  his  splendid  physique.  He  longed  to  go 
home,  but  waited  week  after  week  to  get  the  prison 
taint  off  him  and  the  haggard  look  out  of  his  face. 
Meanwhile  he  made  friends  of  masters  and  men  ;  and 
as  no  one  knew  his  story,  he  took  his  place  again  in  the 
world  gratefully  and  gladly, — with  little  pride  now, 
and  no  plans  but  to  do  some  good  somewhere,  and 
efface  the  past. 

Mrs.  Jo  was  having  a  grand  clearing-out  of  her  desk 
one  October  day,  while  the  rain  poured  outside,  and 
peace  reigned  in  her  mansion.  Coming  across  the  post- 
als, she  pondered  over  them,  and  then  put  them  care- 
fully away  in  the  drawer  labelled  "  Bo}ts'  Letters," 
saying  to  herself,  as  she  bundled  eleven  requests  for 
autographs  into  the  waste-paper  basket,  — 

"  It  is  quite  time  for  another  card,  unless  he  is  coming 
to  tell  his  plans.  I  'm  really  curious  to  know  what  he  has 
been  about  all  this  year,  and  how  he 's  getting  on  now." 

That  last  wish  was  granted  within  an  hour  ;  for  Ted 
came  rushing  in,  with  a  newspaper  in  one  hand,  a  col- 
lapsed umbrella  in  the  other,  and  a  face  full  of  excite- 
ment, announcing,  all  in  one  breathless  jumble,  — 

' '  Mine  caved  in  —  twenty  men  shut  up  —  no  way 
out  —  wives  crying  —  water  rising  —  Dan  knew  the  old 
shaft  —  risked  his  life  —  got  'em  out  —  most  killed  — 
papers  full  of  it  — I  kuew  he  'd  be  a  hero  —  hurray  for 
old  Dan ! " 

44  What?    Where?    When?    Who?     Stop   roaring* 


328  JO'S  BOYS. 

and  let  me  read ! "  commanded  his  mother,  entirely 
bewildered. 

Relinquishing  the  paper,  Ted  allowed  her  to  read  for 
herself,  with  frequent  interruptions  from  him  —  and  Rob, 
who  soon  followed,  eager  for  the  tale.  It  was  nothing 
new ;  but  courage  and  devotion  always  stir  generous 
hearts,  and  win  admiration  ;  so  the  account  was  both 
graphic  and  enthusiastic ;  and  the  name  of  Daniel 
Kean,  the  brave  man  who  saved  the  lives  of  others  at 
the  risk  of  his  own,  was  on  many  lips  that  day.  Very 
proud  were  the  faces  of  these  friends  as  they  read  how 
their  Dan  was  the  only  one  who,  in  the  first  panic  of 
the  accident,  remembered  the  old  shaft  that  led  into  the 
mine,  — walled  up,  but  the  only  hope  of  escape,  if  the 
men  could  be  got  out  before  the  rising  water  drowned 
them ;  how  he  was  lowered  down  alone,  telling  the 
others  to  keep  back  till  he  saw  if  it  was  safe  ;  how  he 
heard  the  poor  fellows  picking  desperately  for  their 
lives  on  the  other  side,  and  \>y  knocks  and  calls  guided 
them  to  the  right  spot ;  then  headed  the  rescue  part}', 
and  working  like  a  hero,  got  the  men  out  in  time.  On 
being  drawn  up  last  of  all,  the  worn  ropes  broke,  and 
he  had  a  terrible  fall,  being  much  hurt,  but  was  still 
alive.  How  the  grateful  women  kissed  his  blackened 
face  and  bloody  hands,  as  the  men  bore  him  away  in 
triumph,  and  the  owners  of  the  mine  promised  a  hand- 
some reward,  if  he  lived  to  receive  it ! 

44  He  must  live ;  he  shall,  and  come  home  to  be 
nursed  as  soon  as  he  can  stir,  if  I  go  and  bring  him 
myself!  I  always  knew  he'd  do  something  fine  and 
brave,  if  he  did  n't  get  shot  or  hung  for  some  wild  prank 
instead,"  cried  Mrs.  Jo,  much  excited,, 


LIFE  FOR  LIFE.  329 

"  Do  go,  and  take  me  with  you,  Mum.  I  ought  to 
be  the  one,  Dan's  so  fond  of  me  and  I  of  him,"  began 
Ted,  feeling  that  this  would  be  an  expedition  after  his 
own  heart. 

Before  his  mother  could  reply,  Mr.  Laurie  came  in, 
with  almost  as  much  noise  and  flurry  as  Teddy  the  sec- 
ond, exclaiming  as  he  waved  the  evening  paper,  — 

"  Seen  the  news,  Jo?  What  do  you  think?  Shall  I 
go  off  at  once,  and  see  after  that  brave  boy  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you  would.  But  the  thing  may  not  be  all 
true,  — rumor  lies  so.  Perhaps  a  few  hours  will  bring 
an  entirely  new  version  of  the  storjV 

"  I  've  telephoned  to  Demi  for  all  he  can  find  out ; 
and  if  it's  true,  I  '11  go  at  once.  Should  like  the  trip. 
If  he  's  able,  I  '11  bring  him  home  ;  if  not,  I  '11  stay  and 
see  to  him.  He  '11  pull  through.  Dan  will  never  die  of 
a  fall  on  his  head.  He 's  got  nine  lives,  and  not  lost 
half  of  them  yet." 

"  If  you  do  go,  uncle,  may  n't  I  go  with  }rou?  I  'm 
just  spoiling  for  a  journey  ;  and  it  would  be  such  larks 
to  go  out  there  with  you,  and  see  the  mines  and  Dan, 
and  hear  all  about  it,  and  help.  I  can  nurse.  Can't  I, 
Rob  ?  "  cried  Tedd}T,  in  his  most  wheedlesome  tones. 

"  Pretty  well.  But  if  mother  can't  spare  3~ou,  I'm 
ready  if  uncle  needs  any  one,"  answered  Rob,  in  his 
quiet  way,  looking  much  fitter  for  the  trip  than  ex- 
citable Ted. 

' '  I  can't  spare  either  of  you.  My  bo}Ts  get  into 
trouble,  unless  I  keep  them  close  at  home.  I've  no 
right  to  hold  the  others  ;  but  I  won't  let  you  out  of  my 
sight,  or  something  will  happen.  Never  saw  such  a 
year,  with  wrecks  and  weddings  and  floods  and  en- 


330  JO'S  BOYS. 

gagements,  and  every  sort  of  catastrophe !  "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Jo. 

"  If  you  deal  in  girls  and  boys,  3Tou  must  expect  this 
sort  of  thing,  ma'am.  The  worst  is  over,  I  hope,  till 
these  lads  begin  to  go  off.  Then  I  '11  stand  by  you ; 
for  you  '11  need  every  kind  of  support  and  comfort, 
specially  if  Ted  bolts  early,"  laughed  Mr.  Laurie,  en- 
joying her  lamentations. 

"  I  don't  think  anything  can  surprise  me  now  ;  but  I 
am  anxious  about  Dan,  and  feel  that  some  one  had  bet- 
ter go  to  him.  It's  a  rough  place  out  there,  and  he 
ma}T  need  careful  nursing.  Poor  lad,  he  seems  to  get  a 
good  many  hard  knocks  !  But  perhaps  he  needs  them 
as  '  a  mellerin'  process,'  as  Hannah  used  to  say." 

"  We  shall  hear  from  Demi  before  long,  and  then  I  '11 
be  off."  With  which  cheerful  promise  Mr.  Laurie  de- 
parted ;  and  Ted,  finding  his  mother  firm,  soon  followed, 
to  coax  his  uncle  to  take  him. 

Further  inquiry  confirmed  and  added  interest  to  the 
news.  Mr.  Laurie  was  off  at  once  ;  and  Ted  went  into  town 
with  him,  still  vainly  imploring  to  be  taken  to  his  Dan. 
He  was  absent  all  da}T ;  but  his  mother  said,  calmly,  — 

"  Only  a  fit  of  the  sulks  because  he  is  thwarted. 
He 's  safe  with  Tom  or  Demi,  and  will  come  home 
hungry  and  meek  at  night.     I  know  him." 

But  she  soon  found  that  she  could  still  be  surprised  ;  for 
evening  brought  no  Ted,  and  no  one  had  seen  him.  Mr. 
Bhaer  was  just  setting  off  to  find  his  lost  son,  when  a 
telegram  arrived,  dated  at  one  of  the  way-stations  on 
Mr.  Laurie's  route  :  — 

Found  Ted  in  the  cars.  Take  him  along.  Write  to- 
morrow T.  Laurence. 


LIFE  FOR  LIFE.  381 

"Ted  bolted  sooner  than  you  expected,  mother. 
Never  mind,  —  uncle  will  take  good  care  of  him,  and 
Dan  be  very  glad  to  see  him,"  said  Rob,  as  Mrs.  Jo  sat, 
trying  to  realize  that  her  youngest  was  actually  on  his 
way  to  the  wild  West. 

' '  Disobedient  boy  !  He  shall  be  severely  punished, 
if  I  ever  get  him  again.  Laurie  winked  at  this  prank  ; 
I  know  he  did.  Just  like  him.  Won't  the  two  rascals 
have  a  splendid  time  ?  Wish  I  was  with  them  !  Don't 
believe  that  crazy  boy  took  even  a  night-gown  with  him, 
or  an  overcoat.  Well,  there  will  be  two  patients  for  us 
to  nurse  when  they  get  back,  if  they  ever  do.  Those 
reckless  express  trains  always  go  down  precipices,  and 
burn  up,  or  telescope.  Oh  !  my  Ted,  my  precious  boy, 
how  can  I  let  him  go  so  far  away  from  me?" 

And  mother-like,  Mrs.  Jo  forgot  the  threatened  chas- 
tisement in  tender  lamentations  over  the  happ}T  scape- 
grace, now  whizzing  across  the  continent  in  high  feather 
at  the  success  of  his  first  revolt.  Mr.  Laurie  was  much 
amused  at  his  insisting  that  those  words,  "  when  Ted 
bolts,"  put  the  idea  into  his  head ;  and  therefore  the 
responsibility  rested  upon  his  shoulders.  He  assumed 
it  kindly  from  the  moment  he  came  upon  the  runaway 
asleep  in  a  car,  with  no  visible  luggage  but  a  bottle  of 
wine  for  Dan  and  a  blacking-brush  for  himself;  and  as 
Mrs.  Jo  suspected,  the  "  two  rascals  "  did  have  a  splen- 
did time.  Penitent  letters  arrived  in  due  season,  and 
the  irate  parents  soon  forgot  to  chide  in  their  anxiety 
about  Dan,  who  was  very  ill,  and  did  not  know  his 
friends  for  several  da}^s.  Then  he  began  to  mend  ;  and 
every  one  forgave  the  bad  boy  when  he  proudly  reported 
that  the  first  conscious  words  Dan  said  were  "  Hullo, 


332  JO'S  BOYS. 

Ted !  "  with  a  smile  of  pleasure  at  seeing  a  familiar  face 
bent  over  him. 

"  Glad  he  went,  and  I  won't  scold  any  more.  Now, 
what  shall  we  put  in  the  box  for  Dan  ?  "  And  Mrs.  Jo 
worked  off  her  impatience  to  get  hold  of  the  invalid  by 
sending  comforts  enough  for  a  hospital. 

Cheering  accounts  soon  began  to  come,  and  at  length 
Dan  was  pronounced  able  to  travel,  but  seemed  in  no 
haste  to  go  home,  though  never  tired  of  hearing  his 
nurses  talk  of  it. 

"Dan  is  strangely  altered,"  wrote  Laurie  to  Jo; 
"  not  by  this  illness  alone,  but  by  something  which  has 
evidently  gone  before.  I  don't  know  what,  and  leave 
3Tou  to  ask  ;  but  from  his  ravings  when  delirious  I  fear 
he  has  been  in  some  serious  trouble  the  past  year.  He 
seems  ten  years  older,  but  improved,  quieter,  and  so 
grateful  to  us.  It  is  pathetic  to  see  the  hunger  in  his 
e}Tes  as  they  rest  on  Ted,  as  if  he  could  n't  see  enough 
of  him.  He  sa}'s  Kansas  was  a  failure,  but  can't  talk 
much ;  so  I  bide  nry  time.  The  people  here  love  him 
very  much,  and  he  cares  for  that  sort  of  thing  now ; 
used  to  scorn  any  show  of  emotion,  you  know ;  now  he 
wants  every  one  to  think  well  of  him,  and  can't  do 
enough  to  win  affection  and  respect.  I  may  be  all 
wrong.  You  will  soon  find  out.  Ted  is  in  clover,  and 
the  trip  has  done  him  a  world  of  good.  Let  me  take 
him  to  Europe  when  we  go?  Apron-strings  don't  agree 
with  him  any  better  than  the}7  did  with  me  when  I  pro- 
posed to  run  awaj7  to  Washington  with  you  some  cen- 
tury ago.     Are  n't  3'ou  sorry  30U  did  n't?  " 

This  private  letter  set  Mrs.  Jo's  livery  fancy  in  a  fer- 
ment, and  she  imagined  every  known  crime,  affliction, 


LIFE  FOR  LIFE,  333 

and  complication  which  could  possibly  have  befallen 
Dan.  He  was  too  feeble  to  be  worried  with  questions 
now,  but  she  promised  herself  most  interesting  revela- 
tions when  she  got  him  safe  at  home ;  for  the  ' '  fire- 
brand "  was  her  most  interesting  boy.  She  begged  him 
to  come,  and  spent  more  time  in  composing  a  letter  that 
should  bring  him,  than  she  did  over  the  most  thrilling 
episodes  in  her  "  works." 

No  one  but  Dan  saw  the  letter ;  but  it  did  bring  him, 
and  one  November  day  Mr.  Laurie  helped  a  feeble  man 
out  of  a  carriage  at  the  door  of  Plumfield,  and  Mother 
Bhaer  received  the  wanderer  like  a  recovered  son  ;  while 
Ted,  in  a  disreputable-looking  hat  and  an  astonishing 
pair  of  boots,  performed  a  sort  of  war-dance  round  the 
interesting  group. 

"  Right  upstairs  and  rest;  I'm  nurse  now,  and  this 
ghost  must  eat  before  he  talks  to  any  one,"  commanded 
Mrs.  Jo,  t^ing  not  to  show  how  shocked  she  was  at 
this  shorn  and  shaven,  gaunt  and  pallid  shadow  of  the 
stalwart  man  she  parted  with. 

He  was  quite  content  to  obey,  and  lay  on  the  long 
lounge  in  the  room  prepared  for  him,  looking  about  as 
tranquilly  as  a  sick  child  restored  to  its  own  nursery  and 
mother's  arms,  while  his  new  nurse  fed  and  refreshed 
him,  bravely  controlling  the  questions  that  burned  upon 
her  tongue.  Being  weak  and  weary,  he  soon  fell  asleep  ; 
and  then  she  stole  away  to  enjoy  the  society  of  the 
"rascals,"  whom  she  scolded  and  petted,  pumped  and 
praised,  to  her  heart's  content: 

4 'Jo,  I  think  Dan  has  committed  some  crime  and 
suffered  for  it,"  said  Mr.  Laurie,  when  Ted  had  departed 
to  show  his  boots  and  tell  glowing  tales  of  the  dangers 


334  JO'S  BOYS. 

and  delights  of  miners'  life  to  his  mates.  "  Some  tern* 
ble  experience  has  come  to  the  lad,  and  broken  his  spirit. 
He  was  quite  out  of  his  head  when  we  arrived,  and  I 
took  the  watching,  so  I  heard  more  of  those  sad  wan- 
derings than  any  one  else.  He  talked  of  the  '  warden,' 
some  trial,  a  dead  man,  and  Blair  and  Mason,  and 
would  keep  offering  me  his  hand,  asking  me  if  I  would 
take  it  and  forgive  him.  Once,  when  he  was  very  wild, 
I  held  his  arms,  and  he  quieted  in  a  moment,  imploring 
me  not  to  '  put  the  handcuffs  on.'  I  declare,  it  was  quite 
awful  sometimes  to  hear  him  in  the  night  talk  of  old 
Plum  and  you,  and  beg  to  be  let  out  and  go  home  to 
die." 

"  He  is  n't  going  to  die,  but  live  to  repent  of  any- 
thing he  ma}r  have  done ;  so  don't  harrow  me  up  with 
these  dark  hints,  Teddy.  I  don't  care  if  he  's  broken 
the  Ten  Commandments,  I  '11  stand  by  him,  and  so  will 
you,  and  we  '11  set  him  on  his  feet  and  make  a  good 
man  of  him  3ret.  I  know  he  's  not  spoilt,  by  the  look  in 
his  poor  face.  Don't  say  a  word  to  any  one,  and  I  'II 
have  the  truth  before  long,"  answered  Mrs.  Jo,  still 
loyal  to  her  bad  boy,  though  much  afflicted  by  what  she 
heard. 

For  some  days  Dan  rested,  and  saw  few  people  ;  then 
good  care,  cheerful  surroundings,  and  the  comfort  of 
being  at  home  began  to  tell,  and  he  seemed  more  like 
himself,  though  still  very  silent  as  to  his  late  expe- 
riences, pleading  the  doctor's  orders  not  to  talk  much. 
Every  one  wanted  to  see  him  ;  but  he  shrunk  from  any 
but  old  friends,  and  "  would  u't  lionize  worth  a  cent," 
Ted  said,  much  disappointed  that  he  could  not  show  off 
his  brave  Dan. 


LIFE  FOR  LIFE.  335 

«c  Was  n't  a  man  there  who  would  n't  have  done  the 
same,  so  why  make  a  row  over  me  ?  "  asked  the  hero, 
feeling  more  ashamed  than  proud  of  the  broken  arm, 
which  looked  so  interesting  in  a  sling. 

1 '  But  is  n't  it  pleasant  to  think  that  you  saved  twenty 
lives,  Dan,  and  gave  husbands,  sons,  and  fathers  back 
to  the  women  who  loved  them?"  asked  Mrs.  Jo  one 
evening  as  they  were  alone  together  after  several  callers 
had  been  sent  away. 

4fc  Pleasant !  it's  all  that  kept  me  alive,  I  do  believe  ; 
yes,  I  'd  rather  have  done  it  than  be  made  president  or 
any  other  big  bug  in  the  world.  No  one  knows  what  a 
comfort  it  is  to  think  I  've  saved  twenty  men  to  more 
than  pay  for  — "  There  Dan  stopped  short,  having 
evidently  spoken  out  of  some  strong  emotion  to  which 
his  hearer  had  no  key. 

"  I  thought  you  'd  feel  so.  It  is  a  splendid  thing  to 
save  life  at  the  risk  of  one's  own,  as  you  did,  and 
nearly  lost  it,"  began  Mrs.  Jo,  wishing  he  had  gone  on 
with  that  impulsive  speech  which  was  so  like  his  old 
manner. 

"  'He  that  loseth  his  life  shall  gain  it,'"  muttered 
Dan,  staring  at  the  cheerful  fire  which  lighted  the  room, 
and  shone  on  his  thin  face  with  a  ruddy  glow. 

Mrs.  Jo  was  so  startled  at  hearing  such  words  from 
his  lips  that  she  exclaimed  joyfully,  — 

"  Then  you  did  read  the  little  book  I  gave  you,  and 
kept  your  promise  ?  " 

"  I  read  it  a  good  deal  after  a  while.  I  don't  know 
much  yet,  but  I  'm  ready  to  learn ;  and  that 's 
something." 

"It's  everything.     Oh,  my  dear,  tell  me  about  it !    J 


336  JO'S  BOYS. 

know  something  lies  heavy  on  your  heart ;  let  me  help 
you  bear  it,  and  so  make  the  burden  lighter." 

"  I  know  it  would  ;  I  want  to  tell ;  but  some  things 
even  you  could  n't  forgive ;  and  if  you  let  go  of  me, 
I  'm  afraid  I  can't  keep  afloat." 

' '  Mothers  can  forgive  anything !  Tell  me  all,  and 
be  sure  that  I  will  never  let  you  go,  though  the  whole 
world  should  turn  from  you." 

Mrs.  Jo  took  one  of  the  big  wasted  hands  in  both  of 
hers  and  held  it  fast,  waiting  silently  till  that  sustaining 
touch  warmed  poor  Dan's  heart,  and  gave  him  courage 
to  speak.  Sitting  in  his  old  attitude,  with  his  head  in 
his  hands,  he  slowly  told  it  all,  never  once  looking  up 
till  the  last  words  left  his  lips. 

"  Now  37ou  know ;  can  you  forgive  a  murderer,  and 
keep  a  jail-bird  in  your  house  ?  " 

Her  only  answer  was  to  put  her  arms  about  him,  and 
la}^  the  shorn  head  on  her  breast,  with  eyes  so  full  of 
tears  they  could  but  dimly  see  the  hope  and  fear  that 
made  his  own  so  tragical. 

That  was  better  than  any  words  ;  and  poor  Dan  clung 
to  her  in  speechless  gratitude,  feeling  the  blessedness 
of  mother  love,  —  that  divine  gift  which  comforts,  puri- 
fies, and  strengthens  all  who  seek  it.  Two  or  three 
great,  bitter  drops  were  hidden  in  the  little  woollen 
shawl  where  Dan's  cheek  rested,  and  no  one  ever  knew 
how  soft  and  comfortable  it  felt  to  him  after  the  hard 
pillows  he  had  known  so  long.  Suffering  of  both  mind 
and  bod}'  had  broken  will  and  pride,  and  the  lifted  bur- 
den brought  such  a  sense  of  relief  that  he  paused  a 
moment  to  enjoy  it  in  dumb  delight. 

44  My  poor  bojT,  how  you  have  suffered  all  this  year, 


LIFE  FOR  LIFE.  337 

when  we  thought  you  free  as  air !  ~Whj  did  n't  you 
tell  us,  Dan,  and  let  us  help  you?  Did  you  doubt 
your  friends?  "  asked  Mrs.  Jo,  forgetting  all  other  emo- 
tions in  sympathy,  as  she  lifted  up  the  hidden  face,  and 
looked  reproachfully  into  the  great  hollow  eyes  that  met 
her  own  frankly  now. 

' '  I  was  ashamed.  I  tried  to  bear  it  alone  rather  than 
shock  and  disappoint  you,  as  I  know  I  have,  though 
you  try  not  to  show  it.  Don't  mind  ;  I  must  get  used 
to  it ; "  and  Dan's  eyes  dropped  again  as  if  the}7  could 
not  bear  to  see  the  trouble  and  dismay  his  confession 
painted  on  his  best  friend's  face. 

"  I  am  shocked  and  disappointed  by  the  sin,  but  I  am 
also  very  glad  and  proud  and  grateful  that  my  sinner 
has  repented,  atoned,  and  is  ready  to  profit  b}T  the  bit- 
ter lesson.  No  one  but  Fritz  and  Laurie  need  ever 
know  the  truth ;  we  owe  it  to  them,  and  they  will  feel 
as  I  do,"  answered  Mrs.  Jo,  wisely  thinking  that  entire 
frankness  would  be  a  better  tonic  than  too  much 
sympathy. 

"No,  they  won't;  men  never  forgive  like  women. 
But  it 's  right.  Please  tell  'em  for  me,  and  get  it  over. 
Mr.  Laurence  knows  it,  I  guess.  I  blabbed  when  my 
wits  were  gone  ;  but  he  was  very  kind  all  the  same.  I 
can  bear  their  knowing  it ;  but  oh,  not  Ted  and  the 
girls  !  "  Dan  clutched  her  arm  with  such  an  imploring 
face  that  she  hastened  to  assure  him  no  one  should 
know  except  the  two  old  friends,  and  he  calmed  down 
as  if  ashamed  of  his  sudden  panic. 

' '  It  was  n't  murder,  mind  you,  it  was  in  self-defence  ; 
he  drew  first,  and  I  had  to  hit  him.  Did  n't  mean  to 
kill  him ;  but  it  does  n't  worry  me  as  much  as  it  ought. 


338  JO'S  BOYS. 

I'm  afraid,  I've  more  than  paid  for  it,  and  such  a 
rascal  is  better  out  of  the  world  than  in  it,  showing  boys 
the  way  to  hell.  Yes,  I  know  you  think  that's  awful 
in  me  ;  but  I  can't  help  it.  I  hate  a  scamp  as  I  do  a 
skulking  coyote,  and  alwa}Ts  want  to  get  a  shot  at  'em. 
Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  if  he  had  killed  me  ; 
my  life  is  spoilt." 

All  the  old  prison  gloom  seemed  to  settle  like  a 
black  cloud  on  Dan's  face  as  he  spoke,  and  Mrs.  Jo 
was  frightened  at  the  glimpse  it  gave  her  of  the  fire 
through  which  he  had  passed  to  come  out  alive,  but 
scarred  for  lifec  Hoping  to  turn  his  mind  to  happier 
things,  she  said  cheerfully,  — 

"  No,  it  is  n't ;  }'Ou  have  learned  to  value  it  more  and 
use  it  better  for  this  trial.  It  is  not  a  lost  year,  but  one 
that  may  prove  the  most  helpful  of  any  you  ever  know. 
Try  to  think  so,  and  begin  again ;  we  will  help,  and 
have  all  the  more  confidence  in  3'ou  for  this  failure. 
We  all  do  the  same  and  struggle  on." 

"I  never  can  be  what  I  was.  I  feel  about  sixty, 
and  don't  care  for  anj'thing  now  I've  got  here.  Let 
me  stay  till  I'm  on  my  legs,  then  I'll  clear  out  and 
never  trouble  you  any  more,"  said  Dan,  despondently. 

"You  are  weak  and  low  in  your  mind;  that  will 
pass,  and  by  and  by  you  will  go  to  your  missionary 
work  among  the  Indians  with  all  the  old  energy  and 
the  new  patience,  self-control,  and  knowledge  }tou  have 
gaired.  Tell  me  more  about  that  good  chaplain  and 
Mary  Mason  and  the  lady  whose  chance  word  helped 
you  so  much.  I  want  to  know  all  about  the  trials  of 
my  poor  boy." 

Won  by  her  tender  interest,  Dan  brightened  up  and 


LIFE  FOR  LIFE.  339 

talked  on  till  he  had  poured  out  all  the  story  of  that 
bitter  year,  and  felt  the  better  for  the  load  he  lifted  off. 
If  he  had  known  how  it  weighed  upon  his  hearer's 
heart,  he  would  have  held  his  peace  ;  but  she  hid  her 
sorrow  till  she  had  sent  him  to  bed,  comforted  and  calm  ; 
then  she  cried  her  heart  out,  to  the  great  dismaj*  of  Fritz 
and  Laurie,  till  they  heard  the  tale  and  could  mourn 
with  her ;  after  which  they  all  cheered  up  and  took 
counsel  together  how  best  to  help  this  worst  of  all  the 
"  catastrophes"  the  year  had  brought  them. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ASLAUGA'S  KNIGHT. 

IT  was  curious  to  see  the  change  which  came  over 
Dan  after  that  talk.  A  weight  seemed  off  his 
mind ;  and  though  the  old  impetuous  spirit  flashed 
out  at  times,  he  seemed  intent  on  trying  to  show  his 
gratitude  and  love  and  honor  to  these  true  friends  by 
a  new  humility  and  confidence  very  sweet  to  them,  very 
helpful  to  him.  After  hearing  the  stor}^  from  Mrs. 
Jo,  the  Professor  and  Mr.  Laurie  made  no  allusion  to 
it  beyond  the  hearty  hand-grasp,  the  look  of  compas- 
sion, the  brief  word  of  good  cheer  in  which  men  conve}T 
sympatlry,  and  a  redoubled  kindness  which  left  no  doubt 
of  pardon.  Mr.  Laurie  began  at  once  to  interest  in- 
.fluential  persons  in  Dan's  mission,  and  set  in  motion 
the  machinery  which  needs  so  much  oiling  before  any- 
thing can  be  done  where  Government  is  concerned. 
Mr.  Bhaer,  with  the  skill  of  a  true  teacher,  gave  Dan's 
hungnT  mind  something  to  do,  and  helped  him  under- 
stand himself  by  carrying  on  the  good  chaplain's  task 
so  paternally  that  the  poor  fellow  often  said  he  felt  as 
if  he  had  found  a  father.  The  boj's  took  him  to  drive, 
and  amused  him  with  their  pranks  and  plans  ;  while  the 
women,  old  and  young,  nursed  and  petted  him  till  he 


ASLAUGA'S  KNIGHT.  341 

felt  like  a  sultan  with  a  crowd  of  devoted  slaves,  obe- 
dient to  his  lightest  wish. 

A  very  little  of  this  was  enough  for  Dan,  who  had  a 
masculine  horror  of  "  molly-coddling,"  and  so  brief 
an  acquaintance  with  illness  that  he  rebelled  against 
the  doctor's  orders  to  keep  quiet ;  and  it  took  all  Mrs. 
Jo's  authorit}'  and  the  girls'  ingenuit}'  to  keep  him  from 
leaving  his  sofa  long  before  strained  back  and  wounded 
head  were  well.  Daisy  cooked  for  him  ;  Nan  attended  to 
his  medicines  ;  Josie  read  aloud  to  while  awa}r  the  long 
hours  of  inaction  that  hung  so  heavily  on  his  hands ; 
while  Bess  brought  all  her  pictures  and  casts  to  amuse 
him,  and,  at  his  special  desire,  set  up  a  modelling-stand 
in  his  parlor  and  began  to  mould  the  buffalo  head  he 
gave  her.  Those  afternoons  seemed  the  pleasantest 
part  of  his  day  ;  and  Mrs.  Jo,  busy  in  her  study  close 
b}r,  could  see  the  friendly  trio  and  enjoy  the  pretty  pic- 
tures the3r  made.  The  girls  were  much  flattered  by  the 
success  of  their  efforts,  and  exerted  themselves  to  be 
very  entertaining,  consulting  Dan's  moods  with  the 
feminine  tact  most  woman  creatures  learn  before  they 
are  out  of  pinafores.  When  he  was  gay,  the  room 
rang  with  laughter  ;  when  gloomy,  the}7  read  or  worked 
in  respectful  silence  till  their  sweet  patience  cheered 
him  up  again ;  and  when  in  pain  the}T  hovered  over 
him  like  "a  couple  of  angels,"  as  he  said.  He  often 
called  Josie  "  little  mother,"  but  Bess  was  alwaj's 
"Princess;"  and  his  manner  to  the  two  cousins  was 
quite  different.  Josie  sometimes  fretted  him  with  her 
fuss}7  wa3's,  the  long  plays  she  liked  to  read,  and  the 
maternal  scoldings  she  administered  when  he  broke  the 
rules  ;  for  having  a  lord  of  creation  in  her  power  was 


342  JO'S  BOYS. 

so  delightful  to  her  that  she  would  have  ruled  him 
with  a  rod  of  iron  if  he  had  submitted.  To  Bess,  in 
her  gentler  ministrations,  he  never  showed  either  im- 
patience or  weariness,  but  obe}Ted  her  least  word, 
exerted  himself  to  seem  well  in  her  presence,  and 
took  such  interest  in  her  work  that  he  lay  lookiug  at 
her  with  unwearied  eyes  ;  while  Josie  read  to  him  in  her 
best  style  unheeded. 

Mrs.  Jo  observed  this,  and  called  them  "Una  and 
the  Lion,"  which  suited  them  very  well,  though  the 
lion's  mane  was  shorn,  and  Una  never  tried  to  bridle 
him.  The  elder  ladies  did  their  part  in  providing  deli- 
cacies and  supplying  all  his  wants  ;  but  Mrs.  Meg  was 
busy  at  home,  Mrs.  Amy  preparing  for  the  trip  to 
Europe  in  the  spring,  and  Mrs.  Jo  hovering  on  the 
brink  of  a  "vortex," — for  the  forthcoming  book  had 
been  sadly  delayed  by  the  late  domestic  events.  As 
she  sat  at  her  desk,  settling  papers  or  meditatively 
nibbling  her  pen  while  waiting  for  the  divine  afflatus 
to  descend  upon  her,  she  often  forgot  her  fictitious 
heroes  and  heroines  in  studying  the  live  models  before 
her,  and  thus  b}r  chance  looks,  words,  and  gestures  dis- 
covered a  little  romance  unsuspected  b}T  airy  one  else. 

The  portiere  between  the  rooms  was  usually  drawn 
aside,  giving  a  view  of  the  group  in  the  large  bay-win- 
dow, —  Bess  at  one  side,  in  her  gray  blouse,  bus}'  with 
her  tools  ;  Josie  at  the  other  side  with  her  book  ;  and  be- 
tween, on  the  long  couch,  propped  with  many  cushions, 
la}T  Dan  in  a  many-hued  Eastern  dressing-gown  pre- 
sented by  Mr.  Laurie  and  worn  to  please  the  girls, 
though  the  invalid  much  preferred  an  old  jacket  "  with 
no  confounded  tail  to  bother  over."     He  faced  Mrs.  Jo's 


ASLAUGA'S  KNIGHT.  343 

room,  but  never  seemed  to  see  her,  for  his  eyes  were  on 
the  slender  figure  before  him,  with  the  pale  winter  sun- 
shine touching  her  golden  head,  and  the  delicate  hands 
that  shaped  the  clay  so  deftly.  Josie  was  just  visible, 
locking  violently  in  a  little  chair  at  the  head  of  the 
couch,  and  the  steady  murmur  of  her  girlish  voice 
was  usually  the  only  sound  that  broke  the  quiet  of  the 
room,  unless  a  sudden  discussion  arose  about  the  book 
or  the  buffalo. 

Something  in  the  big  ejxs,  bigger  and  blacker  than 
ever  in  the  thin  white  face,  fixed  so  steadily  on  one 
object,  had  a  sort  of  fascination  for  Mrs.  Jo  after  a 
time,  and  she  watched  the  changes  in  them  curiously ; 
for  Dan's  mind  was  evidently  not  on  the  stor3T,  and  he 
often  forgot  to  laugh  or  exclaim  at  the  comic  or  ex- 
citing crises.  Sometimes  they  were  soft  and  wistful, 
and  the  watcher  was  very  glad  that  neither  damsel 
caught  that  dangerous  look,  for  when  they  spoke  it 
vanished ;  sometimes  it  was  full  of  eager  fire,  and  the 
color  came  and  went  rebelliously,  in  spite  of  his  attempt 
to  hide  it  with  an  impatient  gesture  of  hand  or  head ; 
but  oftenest  it  was  dark,  and  sad,  and  stern,  as  if  those 
gloomy  eyes  looked  out  of  captivity  at  some  forbidden 
light  or  joy.  This  expression  came  so  often  that  it 
worried  Mrs.  Jo,  and  she  longed  to  go  and  ask  him 
what  bitter  memory  overshadowed  those  quiet  hours. 
She  knew  that  his  crime  and  its  punishment  must  lie 
heavy  on  his  mind  ;  but  3-outh,  and  time,  and  new  hopes 
would  bring  comfort,  and  help  to  wear  awa}^  the  first 
sharpness  of  the  prison  brand.  It  lifted  at  other  times, 
and  seemed  almost  forgotten  when  he  joked  with  the 
boys,  talked  with  old  friends,  or  enjoyed  the  first  snows 


344  JO'S  BOYS. 

as  he  drove  out  every  fair  day.  Why  should  the  shadow 
alwa}S  fall  so  darkly  on  him  in  the  society  of  these  in- 
nocent and  friendly  girls  ?  The}'  never  seemed  to  see 
it,  and  if  either  looked  or  spoke,  a  quick  smile  came 
like  a  sun-burst  through  the  clouds  to  answer  them. 
So  Mrs.  Jo  went  on  watching,  wondering,  and  discov- 
ering, till  accident  confirmed  her  fears. 

Josie  was  called  away  one  day,  and  Bess,  tired  of 
working,  offered  to  take  her  place  if  he  cared  for  more 
reading. 

"I  do  ;  your  reading  suits  me  better  than  Jo's.  She 
goes  so  fast  my  stupid  head  gets  in  a  muddle  and  soon 
begins  to  ache.  Don't  tell  her  ;  she 's  a  dear  little  soul, 
and  so  good  to  sit  here  with  a  bear  like  me." 

The  smile  was  read}T  as  Bess  went  to  the  table  for  a 
new  book,  the  last  story  being  finished. 

"  You  are  not  a  bear,  but  very  good  and  patient,  we 
think.  It  is  always  hard  for  a  man  to  be  shut  up, 
mamma  sa}Ts,  and  must  be  terrible  for  you,  who  have 
always  been  so  free." 

If  Bess  had  not  been  reading  titles  she  would  have 
seen  Dan  shrink  as  if  her  last  words  hurt  him.  He 
made  no  answer ;  but  other  e}*es  saw  and  understood 
why  he  looked  as  if  he  would  have  liked  to  spring  up 
and  rush  away  for  one  of  his  long  races  up  the  hill,  as 
he  used  to  do  when  the  longing  for  libeily  grew  uncon- 
trollable. Moved  by  a  sudden  impulse,  Mrs.  Jo  caught 
up  her  work-basket  and  went  to  join  her  neighbors, 
feeling  that  a  non-conductor  might  be  needed ;  for  Dan 
looked  like  a  thunder-cloud  full  of  electricitj^. 

"  What  shall  we  read,  Aunty?  Dan  does  n't  seem  to 
care.     You  know  his  taste ;  tell  me  something  quiet 


ASLAUGA'S  KNIGHT.  345 

and  pleasant  and  short.  Josie  will  be  back  soon,"  said 
Bess,  still  turning  over  the  books  piled  on  the  centre- 
table. 

Before  Mrs.  Jo  could  answer,  Dan  pulled  a  shabby- 
little  volume  from  under  his  pillow,  and  handing  it  to 
her  said,  "Please  read  the  third  one;  it's  short  and 
pretty,  — I'm  fond  of  it." 

The  book  opened  at  the  right  place,  as  if  the  third 
story  had  been  often  read,  and  Bess  smiled  as  she  saw 
the  name. 

44  Why,  Dan,  I  shouldn't  think  you'd  care  for  this 
romantic  German  tale.  There  is  fighting  in  it ;  but  it  is 
yqvj  sentimental,  if  I  remember  rightly." 

"  I  know  it ;  but  I've  read  so  few  stories,  I  like  the 
simple  ones  best.  Had  nothing  else  to  read  sometimes  ; 
I  guess  I  know  it  all  by  heart,  and  never  seem  to  be 
tired  of  those  fighting  fellows,  and  the  fiends  and  angels 
and  lovely  ladies.  You  read  '  Aslauga's  Knight,'  and 
see  if  you  don't  like  it.  Edwald  was  rather  too  soft  for 
my  fancy ;  but  Froda  was  first  rate,  and  the  spirit  with 
the  golden  hair  alwa}Ts  reminded  me  of  }tou." 

As  Dan  spoke  Mrs.  Jo  settled  herself  where  she 
could  watch  him  in  the  glass,  and  Bess  took  a  large 
chair  facing  him,  saying,  as  she  put  up  her  hands  to 
retie  the  ribbon  that  held  the  cluster  of  thick,  soft  curls 
at  the  back  of  her  head,  — 

"I  hope  Aslauga's  hair  wasn't  as  troublesome  as 
mine,  for  it's  always  tumbling  down.  I'll  be  ready 
in  a  minute." 

4 '  Don't  tie  it  up  ;  please  let  it  hang.  I  love  to  see 
it  shine  that  way.  It  will  rest  your  head,  and  be  just 
right  for  the  story,  Goldilocks,"  pleaded  Dan,  using  the 


346  JO'S  BOYS. 

childish  name  and  looking  more  like  his  boyish  self 
than  he  had  done  for  many  a  day. 

Bess  laughed,  shook  down  her  pretty  hair,  and  began 
to  read,  glad  to  hide  her  face  a  little  ;  for  compliments 
made  her  slry,  no  matter  who  paid  them.  Dan  listened 
intently  now ;  and  Mrs.  Jo,  with  eyes  that  went  often 
from  her  needle  to  the  glass,  could  see,  without  turning, 
how  he  enjoyed  every  word  as  if  it  had  more  meaning 
for  him  than  for  the  other  listeners.  His  face  brightened 
wonderfully,  and  soon  wore  the  look  that  came  when 
anything  brave  or  beautiful  inspired  and  touched  his 
better  self.  It  was  Fouque's  charmiug  story  of  the 
knight  Froda  and  the  fair  daughter  of  Sigurd,  who  was 
a  sort  of  spirit,  appearing  to  her  lover  in  hours  of 
danger  and  trial,  as  well  as  triumph  and  joy,  till  she 
became  his  guide  aud  guard,  inspiring  him  with  courage, 
nobleness,  and  truth,  leading  him  to  great  deeds  in  the 
field,  sacrifices  for  those  he  loved,  and  victories  over 
himself  by  the  gleaming  of  her  golden  hair,  which  shone 
on  him  in  battle,  dreams,  and  perils  b}'  day  and  night, 
till  after  death  he  finds  the  lovely  spirit  waiting  to 
receive  and  to  reward  him. 

Of  all  the  stories  in  the  book  this  was  the  last  one 
would  have  supposed  Dan  would  like  best,  and  even 
Mrs.  Jo  was  surprised  at  his  perceiving  the  moral  of 
the  tale  through  the  delicate  imageiy  and  romantic 
language  by  which  it  was  illustrated.  But  as  she  looked 
and  listened  she  remembered  the  streak  of  sentiment 
and  refinement  which  lay  concealed  in  Dan  like  the  gold 
vein  in  a  rock,  making  him  quick  to  feel  and  to  enjoy 
fine  color  in  a  flower,  grace  in  an  animal,  sweetness  in 
women,  heroism  in  men,  and  all  the  tender  ties  that 


ASLAUGA'S  KNIGHT,  347 

oind  heart  to  heart ;  though  he  was  slow  to  show  it, 
having  no  words  to  express  the  tastes  and  instincts 
which  he  inherited  from  his  mother.  Suffering  of  soul 
and  body  had  tamed  his  stronger  passions,  and  the 
atmosphere  of  love  and  pity  now  surrounding  him 
purified  and  warmed  his  heart  till  it  began  to  hunger 
for  the  food  neglected  or  denied  so  long.  This  was 
plainly  written  in  his  too  expressive  face,  as,  fancy- 
ing it  unseen,  he  let  it  tell  the  longing  after  beauty, 
peace,  and  happiness  embodied  for  him  in  the  innocent 
fair  girl  before  him. 

The  conviction  of  this  sad  }Tet  natural  fact  came  to 
Mrs.  Jo  with  a  pang,  for  she  felt  how  utterly  hopeless 
such  a  longing  was  ;  since  light  and  darkness  were  not 
farther  apart  than  snow-white  Bess  and  sin-stained 
Dan.  No  dream  of  such  a  thing  disturbed  the  young 
girl,  as  her  entire  unconsciousness  plainly  showed.  But 
how  long  would  it  be  before  the  eloquent  e}Tes  betrayed 
the  truth?  And  then  what  disappointment  for  Dan, 
what  disma}T  for  Bess,  who  was  as  cool  and  high  and 
pure  as  her  own  marbles,  and  shunned  all  thought  of 
love  with  maidenly  reserve. 

"How  hard  everything  is  made  for  my  poor  boy! 
How  can  I  spoil  his  little  dream,  and  take  awa}r  the 
spirit  of  good  he  is  beginning  to  love  and  long  for? 
When  m}T  own  dear  lads  are  safely  settled  I  '11  never 
try  another,  for  these  things  are  heart-breaking,  and  I 
can't  manage  any  more,"  thought  Mrs.  Jo,  as  she  put 
the  lining  into  Teddy's  coat-sleeve  upside  down,  so 
perplexed  and  grieved  was  she  at  this  new  catastrophe. 

The  stor}'  was  soon  done,  and  as  Bess  shook  back 
her  hair  Dan  asked  as  eagerly  as  a  boy,  — 


348  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  Don't  you  like  it?" 

"  Yes,  it's  very  pretty,  and  I  see  the  meaning  of  it; 
but  Undine  was  always  my  favorite." 

"  Of  course,  that's  like  you,  —  lilies  and  pearls  and 
souls  and  pure  water.  Sintram  used  to  be  mine ;  but 
I  took  a  fancy  to  this  when  I  was  —  ahem  —  rather 
down  on  my  luck  one  time,  and  it  did  me  good,  it  was 
so  cheerful  and  sort  of  spiritual  in  its  meaning,  you 
know." 

Bess  opened  her  blue  eyes  in  wonder  at  this  fancy  of 
Dan's  for  anything  "spiritual;"  but  she  only  nodded, 
saying,  "  Some  of  the  little  songs  are  sweet  and  might 
be  set  to  music." 

Dan  laughed  ;  "  I  used  to  sing  the  last  one  to  a  tune 
of  my  own  sometimes  at  sunset,  — 

'  Listening  to  celestial  lays, 
Bending  thy  unclouded  gaze 
On  the  pure  and  living  light, 
Thou  art  blest,  Aslauga's  Knight ! ■ 

And  I  was,"  he  added,  under  his  breath,  as  he  glanced 
toward  the  sunshine  dancing  on  the  wall. 

"  This  one  suits  you  better  now  ; "  and  glad  to  please 
him  by  her  interest,  Bess  read  in  her  soft  voice,  — 

"  Heal  fast,  heal  fast,  ye  hero  wounds ; 
O  knight,  be  quickly  strong  I 

Beloved  strife 

For  fame  and  life, 
Oh,  tarry  not  too  long  !  " 

** 1  'm  no  hero,  never  can  be,  and  '  fame  and  life ' 
can't  do  much  for  me.    Never  mind,  read  me  the  paper, 


ASLAUGA'S  KNIGHT.  349 

please.  This  knock  on  the  head  has  made  a  regular 
fool  of  me." 

Dan's  voice  was  gentle  ;  but  the  light  was  gone  out  of 
his  face  now,  and  he  moved  restlessly  as  if  the  silken 
pillows  were  full  of  thorns.  Seeing  that  his  mood  had 
changed,  Bess  quietly  put  down  the  book,  took  up  the 
paper,  and  glanced  along  the  columns  for  something  to 
suit  him. 

"  You  don't  care  for  the  money  market,  I  know,  nor 
musical  news.  Here's  a  murder;  you  used  to  like 
those  ;  shall  I  read  it  ?     One  man  kills  another  —  " 

"No!" 

Only  a  word,  but  it  gave  Mrs.  Jo  a  thrill,  and  for  a 
moment  she  dared  not  glance  at  the  tell-tale  mirror. 
When  she  did  Dan  la}T  motionless  with  one  hand  over 
his  eyes,  and  Bess  was  happily  reading  the  art  news  to 
ears  that  never  heard  a  word.  Feeling  like  a  thief  who 
has  stolen  something  very  precious,  Mrs.  Jo  slipped 
away  to  her  study,  and  before  long  Bess  followed  to 
report  that  Dan  was  fast  asleep. 

Sending  her  home,  with  the  firm  resolve  to  keep  her 
there  as  much  as  possible,  Mother  Bhaer  had  an  hour  of 
serious  thought  all  alone  in  the  red  sunset ;  and  when  a 
sound  in  the  next  room  led  her  there,  she  found  that 
the  feigned  sleep  had  become  real  repose  ;  for  Dan  lay 
breathing  heaviry,  with  a  scarlet  spot  on  either  cheek, 
and  one  hand  clinched  on  his  broad  breast.  Yearning 
over  him  with  a  deeper  pity  than  ever  before,  she  sat 
in  the  little  chair  beside  him,  trying  to  see  her  way  out 
of  this  tangle,  till  his  hand  slipped  down,  and  in  doing 
so  snapped  a  cord  he  wore  about  his  neck  and  let  a 
small  ease  drop  to  the  floor. 


350  JO'S  BOYS. 

Mrs.  Jo  picked  it  up,  and  as  he  did  not  wake,  sat 
looking  at  it,  idly  wondering  what  charm  it  held  ;  for  the 
case  was  of  Indian  workmanship,  and  the  broken  cord, 
of  closely  woven  grass,  sweet  scented  and  pale  yellow. 

"I  won't  pry  into  any  more  of  the  poor  fellow's 
secrets.  I  '11  mend  and  put  it  back,  and  never  let  him 
know  I  've  seen  his  talisman." 

As  she  spoke  she  turned  the  little  wallet  to  examine 
the  fracture,  and  a  card  fell  into  her  lap.  It  was  a  pho- 
tograph, cut  to  fit  its  covering,  and  two  words  were 
written  underneath  the  face,  "My  Aslauga."  For  an 
instant  Mrs.  Jo  fancied  that  it  might  be  one  of  herself, 
for  all  the  boys  had  them ;  but  as  the  thin  paper  fell 
away,  she  saw  the  picture  Demi  took  of  Bess  that  happy 
summer  day.  There  was  no  doubt  now,  and  with  a 
sigh  she  put  it  back,  and  was  about  to  slip  it  into  Dan's 
bosom  so  that  not  even  a  stitch  should  betray  her  knowl- 
edge, when,  as  she  leaned  toward  him,  she  saw  that  he 
was  looking  straight  at  her  with  an  expression  that  sur- 
prised her  more  than  an}r  of  the  strange  ones  she  had 
ever  seen  in  that  changeful  face  before. 

"  Your  hand  slipped  down  ;  it  fell ;  I  was  putting  it 
back,"  explained  Mrs.  Jo,  feeling  like  a  naughty  child 
caught  in  mischief. 

"  You  saw  the  picture?'* 

"  Yes." 

"  And  know  what  a  fool  I  am?  n 

"  Yes,  Dan,  and  am  so  grieved  —  * 

"  Don't  worry  about  me.  I'm  all  right — glad  you 
know,  though  I  never  meant  to  tell  you.  Of  course  it 
is  only  a  crazy  fancy  of  mine,  and  nothing  can  ever 
Come  of  it.     Never  thought  there  would.     Good  Lord  J 


ASLAUGA'S   KNIGHT  351 

what  could  that  little  angel  ever  be  to  me  but  what  she 
is,  —  a  sort  of  dream  of  all  that 's  sweet  and  good  ?  " 

More  afflicted  by  the  quiet  resignation  of  his  look  and 
tone  than  by  the  most  passionate  ardor,  Mrs.  Jo  could 
only  say,  with  a  face  full  of  s3Tmpath\T,  — 

"  It  is  very  hard,  dear,  but  there  is  no  other  way  to 
look  at  it.  You  are  wise  and  brave  enough  to  see  that, 
and  to  let  the  secret  be  ours  alone." 

"  I  swear  I  will !  not  a  word  nor  a  look  if  I  can  help 
it.  No  one  guesses,  and  if  it  troubles  no  one,  is  there 
any  harm  in  my  keeping  this,  and  taking  comfort  in  the 
prett}'  fancy  that  kept  me  sane  in  that  cursed  place  ?  " 

Dan's  face  was  eager  now,  and  he  hid  away  the  little 
worn  case  as  if  def}'ing  any  hand  to  take  it  from  him. 
Anxious  to  know  everything  before  giving  counsel  or 
comfort,  Mrs.  Jo  said  quietly,  — 

"  Keep  it,  and  tell  me  all  about  the  i  fancy.'  Since  I 
have  stumbled  on  your  secret,  let  me  know  how  it  came, 
and  how  I  can  help  to  make  it  lighter  to  bear." 

"  You  '11  laugh  ;  but  I  don't  mind.  You  alwa}Ts  did 
find  out  our  secrets  and  give  us  a  lift.  Well,  I  never 
cared  much  for  books,  you  know ;  but  down  yonder 
when  the  devil  tormented  me  I  had  to  do  something  or 
go  stark  mad,  so  I  read  both  the  books  you  gave  me. 
One  was  be3~ond  me,  till  that  good  old  man  showed  me 
how  to  read  it ;  but  the  other,  this  one,  was  a  comfort, 
I  tell  }7ou.  It  amused  me,  and  was  as  pretty  as  poetry. 
I  liked  'em  all,  and  most  wore  out  Sintram.  See  how 
used  up  he  is  !  Then  I  came  to  this,  and  it  sort  of  fitted 
that  other  happjT  part  of  my  life,  last  summer  —  here." 

Dan  stopped  a  moment  as  the  words  lingered  on  his 
lips ;  then,  with  a  long  breath,  went  on,  as  if  it  was 


352  JO'S  BOYS. 

uard  to  lay  bare  the  foolish  little  romance  he  had  woven 
about  a  girl,  a  picture,  and  a  child's  story  there  in  the 
darkness  of  the  place  which  was  as  terrible  to  him  as 
Dante's  Inferno,  till  he  found  his  Beatrice. 

"  I  could  n't  sleep,  and  had  to  think  about  something, 
so  I  used  to  f&ncy  I  was  Folko,  and  see  the  shining  of 
Aslauga's  hair  in  the  sunset  on  the  wall,  the  glim  of  the 
watchman's  lamp,  and  the  light  that  came  in  at  dawn. 
M}T  cell  was  high.  I  could  see  a  bit  of  sk}T ;  sometimes 
there  was  a  star  in  it,  and  that  was  'most  as  good  as  a 
face.  I  set  great  store  by  that  patch  of  blue,  and  when 
a  white  cloud  went  by,  I  thought  it  was  the  prettiest 
thing  in  all  this  world.  I  guess  I  was  pretty  near  a  fool  ; 
but  those  thoughts  and  things  helped  me  through,  so  they 
are  all  solemn  true  to  me,  and  I  can't  let  them  go.  The 
dear  shiny  head,  the  white  gown,  the  eyes  like  stars, 
and  the  sweet,  calm  ways  that  set  her  as  high  above  me 
as  the  moon  in  heaven.  Don't  take  it  awa}' !  it  *s  only 
a  fancy,  but  a  man  must  love  something,  and  I  'd  better 
love  a  spirit  like  her  than  any  of  the  poor  common  girls 
who  would  care  for  me." 

The  quiet  despair  in  Dan's  voice  pierced  Mrs.  Jo  to 
the  heart ;  but  there  was  no  hope  and  she  gave  none. 
Yet  she  felt  that  he  was  right,  and  that  this  hapless  af- 
fection might  do  more  to  uplift  and  purify  him  than  any 
other  he  might  know.  Few  women  would  care  to  marry 
Dan  now,  except  such  as  would  hinder,  not  help,  him  in 
the  struggle  which  life  would  always  be  to  him ;  and  it 
was  better  to  go  solitaiy  to  his  grave  than  become  what 
she  suspected  his  father  had  been,  — a  handsome,  un- 
principled, and  dangerous  man,  with  more  than  one 
broken  heart  to  answer  for., 


ASLAUGA'S  KNIGHT,  353 

"Yes,  Dan,  it  is  wise  to  keep  this  innocent  fancy, 
if  it  helps  and  comforts  you,  till  something  more  real 
and  possible  comes  to  make  you  happier.  I  wish  I  could 
give  you  any  hope ;  but  we  both  know  that  the  dear 
child  is  the  apple  of  her  father's  eye,  the  pride  of  her 
mother's  heart,  and  that  the  most  perfect  lover  they  can 
find  will  hardly  seem  to  them  worthy  of  their  precious 
daughter.  Let  her  remain  for  you  the  high,  bright  star 
that  leads  you  up  and  makes  you  believe  in  heaven." 

Mrs.  Jo  broke  down  there  ;  it  seemed  so  cruel  to  de- 
stro}"  the  faint  hope  Dan's  eyes  betrayed,  that  she  could 
not  moralize  when  she  thought  of  his  hard  life  and 
lonely  future.  Perhaps  it  was  the  wisest  thing  she 
could  have  done,  for  in  her  hearty  sympathy  he  found 
comfort  for  his  own  loss,  and  verj^  soon  was  able  to 
speak  again  in  the  manly  tone  of  resignation  to  the  in- 
evitable that  showed  how  honest  was  his  effort  to  give 
up  everything  but  the  pale  shadow  of  what,  for  another, 
might  have  been  a  happy  possibilit\\ 

They  talked  long  and  earnestly  in  the  twilight ;  and 
this  second  secret  bound  them  closer  than  the  flrst ;  for 
in  it  there  was  neither  sin  nor  shame,  — ■  only  the  tender 
pain  and  patience  which  has  made  saints  and  heroes  of 
far  worse  men  than  our  poor  Dan.  When  at  length 
they  rose  at  the  summons  of  a  bell,  all  the  sunset  glory 
had  departed,  and  in  the  wintry  sky  there  hung  one 
star,  large,  soft,  and  clear,  above  a  snowy  world.  Paus- 
ing at  the  window  before  she  dropped  the  curtain,  Mrs, 
Jo  said  cheerfulty,  — 

"Come  and  see  how  beautiful  the  evening  star  is, 
since  you  love  it  so/9  And  as  he  stood  behind  her, 
tail  and  pale,  like  the  ghost  of  his  former  self,  she 

2% 


354  JO'S  BOYS, 

added  softly,  "  And  remember,  dear,  if  the  sweet  girl 
is  denied  you,  the  old  friend  is  always  here  to  love  and 
trust  and  pray  for  you." 

This  time  she  was  not  disappointed;  and  had  she 
asked  any  reward  for  many  anxieties  and  cares,  she 
received  it  when  Dan's  strong  arm  came  round  her, 
as  he  said,  in  a  voice  which  showed  her  that  she  had 
not  labored  in  vain  to  pluck  her  firebrand  from  the 
burning,  — ■ 

44 1  never  can  forget  that;  for  she's  helped  to  save 
my  soul,  and  make  me  dare  to  look  up  there  and  sa^- 
<  God  blether!"* 


CHAPTER  XXH. 

POSITIVELY  LAST  APPEARANCE. 

»'  T  TPON  my  word,  I  feel  as  if  I  lived  in  a  powder- 
^-J  magazine,  and  don't  know  which  barrel  will  ex- 
plode next,  and  send  me  frying,"  said  Mrs.  Jo  to  herself 
next  da}T,  as  she  trudged  up  to  Parnassus  to  suggest  to 
her  sister  that  perhaps  the  most  charming  of  the  young 
nurses  had  better  return  to  her  marble  gods  before  she 
unconsciously  added  another  wound  to  those  already 
won  by  the  human  hero.  She  told  no  secrets ;  but  a 
hint  was  sufficient ;  for  Mrs.  Amy  guarded  her  daughter 
as  a  pearl  of  great  price,  and  at  once  devised  a  very 
simple  means  of  escape  from  danger.  Mr.  Laurie  was 
going  to  Washington  on  Dan's  behalf,  and  was  de- 
lighted to  take  his  family  with  him  when  the  idea  was 
carelessly  suggested.  So  the  conspirac}'  succeeded 
finery ;  and  Mrs.  Jo  went  home,  feeling  more  like  a 
traitor  than  ever.  She  expected  an  explosion  ;  but  Dan 
took  the  news  so  quietly,  it  was  plain  that  he  cherished 
no  hope ;  and  Mrs.  Amy  was  sure  her  romantic  sister 
had  been  mistaken.  If  she  had  seen  Dan's  face  when 
Bess  went  to  sa}r  good-b}T,  her  maternal  e}'e  would  have 
discovered  far  more  than  the  unconscious  girl  did.  Mrs. 
Jo  trembled  lest  he  should  betra}'  himself;  but  he  had 
learned  self-control  in  a  stern  school,  and  would  have 


356  JO'S  BOYS, 

got  through  the  hard  moment  bravely,  only,  when  he 
took  both  her  hands,  saying  heartily,  "  Good-bj^,  Prin- 
cess. If  we  don't  meet  again,  remember  your  old  friend 
Dan  sometimes,"  she,  touched  by  his  late  clanger  and 
the  wistful  look  he  wore,  answered  with  unusual  warmth, 
"  How  can  I  help  it,  when  you  make  us  all  so  proud 
of  you?  God  bless  your  mission,  and  bring  }rou  safely 
home  to  us  again  !  " 

As  she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  face  full  of  frank 
affection  and  sweet  regret,  all  that  he  was  losing  rose 
so  vividly  before  him  that  Dan  could  not  resist  the  im- 
pulse to  take  the  "  dear  goldy  head"  between  his  hands 
and  kiss  it,  with  a  broken  "  Good-by ; "  then  hurried 
back  to  his  room,  feeling  as  if  it  were  the  prison-cell 
again,  with  no  glimpse  of  heaven's  blue  to  comfort 
him. 

This  abrupt  caress  and  departure  rather  startled  Bess  ; 
*br  she  felt  with  a  girl's  quick  instinct  that  there  was 
something  in  that  kiss  unknown  before,  and  looked  after 
him  with  sudden  color  in  her  cheeks  and  new  trouble  in 
her  eyes.  Mrs.  Jo  saw  it,  and  fearing  a  very  natural 
question,  answered  it  before  it  was  put. 

"  Forgive  him,  Bess.  He  has  had  a  great  trouble, 
and  it  makes  him  tender  at  parting  with  old  friends ; 
for  3Tou  know  he  may  never  come  back  from  the  wild 
world  he  is  going  to." 

"You  mean  the  fall  and  danger  of  death?"  asked 
Bess,  innocently. 

"  No,  dear  ;  a  greater  trouble  than  that.  But  I  can- 
not tell  you  any  more,  —  except  that  he  has  come 
through  it  bravely ;  so  you  may  trust  and  respect  him, 
as  I  do." 


POSITIVELY  LAST  APPEARANCE.       357 

"  He  has  lost  some  one  he  loved.  Poor  Dan !  We 
must  be  yery  kind  to  him." 

Bess  did  not  ask  the  question,  but  seemed  content 
with  her  solution  of  the  myster}-,  —  which  was  so  true 
that  Mrs.  Jo  confirmed  it  by  a  nod,  and  let  her  go 
away  believing  that  some  tender  loss  and  sorrow  wrought 
the  great  change  all  saw  in  Dan,  and  made  him  so  slow 
to  speak  concerning  the  past  year. 

But  Ted  was  less  easily  satisfied,  and  this  unusual 
reticence  goaded  him  to  desperation.  His  mother  had 
had  warned  him  not  to  trouble  Dan  with  questions  till 
he  was  quite  well ;  but  this  prospect  of  approaching 
departure  made  him  resolve  to  have  a  full,  clear,  and 
satisfactory  account  of  the  adventures  which  he  felt 
sure  must  have  been  thrilling,  from  stray  words  Dan 
let  fall  in  his  fever.  So  one  day  when  the  joast  was 
clear,  Master  Ted  volunteered  to  amuse  the  invalid, 
and  did  so  in  the  following  manner :  — 

"  Look  here,  old  bo3T,  if  you  don't  want  me  to  read, 
you've  got  to  talk,  and  tell  me  all  about  Kansas,  and 
the  farms,  and  that  part.  The  Montana  business  I 
know,  but  you  seem  to  forget  what  went  before.  Brace 
up,  and  let 's  have  it,"  he  began,  with  an  abruptness 
which  roused  Dan  from  a  brown  study  most  effectually. 

"  No,  I  don't  forget ;  it  isn't  interesting  to  any  one 
but  nryself.  I  did  n't  see  any  farms,  —  gave  it  up,"  he 
said  slowly. 

"Why?" 

44  Other  things  to  do." 

"What?" 

"  Well,  brush-making  for  one  thing." 

"  Don't  chaff  a  fellow.     Tell  true." 


358  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  I  truly  did." 

"What  for?" 

44  To  keep  out  of  mischief,  as  much  as  anything." 

"  Well,  of  all  the  queer  things —  and  you  've  done  a 
lot  —  that's  the  queerest;"  cried  Ted,  taken  aback  at 
this  disappointing  discover}-.  But  he  didn't  mean  to 
give  up  yet,  and  began  again. 

"  What  mischief,  Dan?" 

44  Never  you  mind.     Boys  should  n't  bother." 

44  But  I  do  want  to  know,  awfully,  because  I  'm  }rou 
pal,  and  care  for  you  no  end.  Always  did.  Come 
now,  tell  me  a  good  yarn.  I  love  scrapes.  I  '11  bt 
mum  as  an  03'ster  if  3'ou  don't  want  it  known." 

44  Will  you?"  and  Dan  looked  at  him,  wondering 
how  the  boyish  face  would  change  if  the  truth  were 
suddenly  told  him. 

44  I'll  swear  it  on  locked  fists,  if  you  like.  I  know 
it  was  jolly,  and  I'm  aching  to  hear." 

44  You  are  as  curious  as  a  girl.  More  than  some,  — 
Josie  and  —  and  Bess  never  asked  a  question." 

44  They  don't  care  about  rows  and  things  ;  the}'  liked 
the  mine,  business,  heroes,  and  that  sort.  So  do  I,  and 
I  'm  as  proud  as  Punch  over  it ;  but  I  see  by  your  eyes 
that  there  was  something  else  before  that,  and  I'm 
bound  to  find  out  who  Blair  and  Mason  are,  and  who 
was  hit  and  who  ran  away,  and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

44  What !  "  cried  Dan,  in  a  tone  that  made  Ted  jump. 

44  Well,  you  used  to  mutter  about  'em  in  your  sleep, 
and  Uncle  Laurie  wondered.  So  did  I ;  but  don't  mind, 
if  you  can't  remember,  or  would  rather  not." 

44  What  else  did  I  say  ?  Queer,  what  stuff  a  man  will 
talk  when  his  wits  are  gone." 


POSITIVELY  LAST  APPEARANCE.        359 

"  That's  all  I  heard ;  but  it  seemed  interesting,  and 
I  just  mentioned  it,  thinking  it  might  refresh  your 
memory  a  bit,"  said  Teddy,  very  politely ;  for  Dan's 
frown  was  heavy  at  that  moment. 

It  cleared  off  at  this  reply,  and  after  a  look  at  the 
boy  squirming  with  suppressed  impatience  in  his  chair, 
Dan  made  up  his  mind  to  amuse  him  with  a  game  of 
cross-purposes  and  half-truths,  hoping  to  quench  his 
curiosity,  and  so  get  peace. 

"  Let  me  see  ;  Blair  was  a  lad  I  met  in  the  cars,  and 
Mason  a  poor  fellow  who  was  in  a  —  well,  a  sort  of 
hospital  where  I  happened  to  be.  Blair  ran  off  to  his 
brothers,  and  I  suppose  I  might  say  Mason  was  hit7 
because  he  died  there.     Does  that  suit  you  ?  " 

"  No,  it  doesn't.  Why  did  Blair  run?  and  who  hit 
the  other  fellow?  I'm  sure  there  was  a  fight  some- 
where, was  n't  there  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  guess  I  know  what  it  was  about." 

"  The  devil,  you  do  !  Let 's  hear  you*  guess.  Must 
be  amusing,"  said  Dan,  affecting  an  ease  he  did  not  feel. 

Charmed  to  be  allowed  to  free  his  mind,  Ted  at  once 
unfolded  the  boyish  solution  of  the  mysterj^  which  he 
had  been  cherishing,  for  he  felt  that  there  was  one 
somewhere. 

' '  You  need  n't  say  yes,  if  I  guess  right  and  }'ou  are 
under  oath  to  keep  silent.  I  shall  know  by  your  face, 
and  never  tell.  Now  see  if  I'm  not  right.  Out 
there  they  have  wild  doings,  and  it's  my  belief  you 
were  iu  some  of  'em.  I  don't  mean  robbing  mails,  and 
Ku-Kluxing,  and  that  sort  of  thing  ;  but  defending  the 
settlers,  or  hanging  some  scamp,  or  even  shooting  a 


360  JO'S  BOYS. 

few,  as  a  fellow  must  sometimes,  in  self-defence.  Ah, 
ha  !  I  've  hit  it,  I  see.  Need  n't  speak  ;  I  know  the  flash 
of  your  old  eye,  and  the  clinch  of  your  big  fist."  And 
Ted  pranced  with  satisfaction. 

11  Drive  on,  smart  boy,  and  don't  lose  the  trail," 
said  Dan,  finding  a  curious  sense  of  comfort  in  some  of 
these  random  words,  ana  longing,  but  not  daring,  to 
confirm  tliJ  true  ones.  He  might  have  confessed  the 
crime,  but  not  the  punishment  that  followed,  the  sense 
of  its  disgrace  was  still  so  strong  upon  him. 

"  I  knew  I  should  get  it ;  can't  deceive  me  long,"  be- 
gan Ted,  with  such  an  air  of  pride  Dan  could  not  help 
a  short  laugh. 

"It's  a  relief,  isn't  it,  to  have  it  off  your  mind? 
Now,  just  confide  in  me  and  it 's  all  safe,  unless  you  've 
sworn  not  to  tell." 

"  I  have." 

"Oh,  well,  then  don't;"  and  Ted's  face  fell,  but  he 
was  himself  again  in  a  moment  and  said,  with  the  air 
of  a  man  of  the  world,  "It's  all  right  —  I  understand 
—  honor  binds  —  silence  to  death,  etc.  Glad  you  stood 
by  3Tour  mate  in  the  hospital.    How  many  did  you  kill?  " 

"Only  one." 

"Bad  lot,  of  course?" 

"  A  damned  rascal." 

"  Well,  don't  look  so  fierce ;  I  've  no  objection. 
Would  n't  mind  popping  at  some  of  those  bloodthirsty 
blackguards  myself.  Had  to  dodge  and  keep  quiet 
after  it,  I  suppose." 

"  Pretty  quiet  for  a  long  spell." 

"  Got  off  all  right  in  the  end,  and  headed  for  your 
mines  and  did  that  jolly  brave  thing.     Now,  I  call  that 


POSITIVELY  LAST  APPEARANCE.        361 

all  decidedly  interesting  and  capital.  I  'm  glad  to  know 
it;  but  I  won't  blab." 

"Mind  you  don't.  Look  here,  Ted,  if  you'd  killed 
a  man,  would  it  trouble  you  —  a  bad  one,  I  mean  ?  " 

The  lad  opened  his  mouth  to  say,  "Not  a  bit,"  but 
checked  that  answer  as  if  something  in  Dan's  face  made 
him  change  his  mind.  "  Well,  if  it  was  my  dut}^  in 
war  or  self-defence,  I  suppose  I  should  n't ;  but  if  I  'd 
pitched  into  him  in  a  rage,  I  guess  I  should  be  very 
sony.  Should  n't  wonder  if  he  sort  of  haunted  me, 
and  remorse  gnawed  me  as  it  did  Aram  and  those  fel- 
lows. You  don't  mind,  do  you?  It  was  a  fair  fight, 
was  n't  it?" 

' '  Yes,  I  was  in  the  right ;  but  I  wisL  I  'd  been  out 
of  it.  Women  don't  see  it  that  way,  and  look  horrified 
at  such  things.     Makes  it  hard  ;  but  it  don't  matter." 

"Don't  tell  'em;  then  they  can't  worry,"  said  Ted, 
with  the  nod  of  one  versed  in  the  management  of  the  sex. 

"  Don't  intend  to.  Mind  you  keep  your  notions  to 
37ourself,  for  some  of  'em  are  wide  of  the  mark.  Now 
you  may  read  if  you  like  ;  "  and  there  the  talk  ended ; 
but  Ted  took  great  comfort  in  it,  and  looked  as  wise  as 
an  owl  afterward. 

A  few  quiet  weeks  followed,  during  which  Dan  chafed 
at  the  delay ;  and  when  at  length  word  came  that  his 
credentials  were  ready,  he  was  eager  to  be  off,  to  forget 
a  vain  love  in  hard  work,  and  live  for  others,  since  he 
might  not  for  himself. 

So  one  wild  March  morning  our  Sintram  rode  away, 
with  horse  and  hound,  to  face  p-gain  the  enemies  who 
would  have  conquered  him,  but  for  Heaven's  help  and 
human  pity- 


362  JO'S  BOYS. 

"  Ah,  me !  it  does  seem  as  if  life  was  made  of  part, 
ings,  and  they  get  harder  as  we  go  on,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Jo,  a  week  later,  as  she  sat  in  the  long  parlor  at  Par- 
nassus one  evening,  whither  the  family  had  gone  to 
welcome  the  travellers  back. 

"And  meetings  too,  dear;  for  here  we  are,  and  Nat 
is  on  his  way  at  last.  Look  for  the  silver  lining,  aa 
Marmee  used  to  say,  and  be  comforted,"  answered  Mrs. 
Amy,  glad  to  be  at  home  and  find  no  wolves  prowling 
near  her  sheep-fold. 

"I've  been  so  worried  lately,  I  can't  help  croaking. 
I  wonder  what  Dan  thought  at  not  seeing  3-ou  again? 
It  was  wise ;  but  he  would  have  enjoyed  another  look 
at  home  faces  before  he  went  into  the  wilderness,"  said 
Mrs.  Jo,  regretfully. 

"Much  better  so.  We  left  notes  and  all  we  could 
think  of  that  he  might  need,  and  slipped  away  before 
he  came.  Bess  really  seemed  relieved ;  I  'm  sure  I 
was  ; "  and  Mrs.  Anry  smoothed  an  anxious  line  out  of 
her  white  forehead,  as  she  smiled  at  her  daughter, 
laughing  happily  among  her  cousins. 

Mrs.  Jo  shook  her  head  as  if  the  silver  lining  of  that 
cloud  was  hard  to  find ;  but  she  had  no  time  to  croak 
again,  for  just  then  Mr.  Laurie  came  in  looking  well 
pleased  at  something. 

"  A  new  picture  has  arrived ;  face  toward  the  music- 
room,  good  people,  and  tell  me  how  3Tou  like  it.  I  call 
it  '  Only  a  fiddler,'  after  Andersen's  story.  What 
name  will  you  give  it?" 

As  he  spoke  he  threw  open  the  wide  doors,  and  just 
beyond  the}'  saw  a  young  man  standing,  with  a  beaming 
face,  and  a  violin  in  his  hand.     There  was  no  doubt 


POSITIVELY  LAST  APPEARANCE.        363 

ibout  the  name  to  this  picture,  and  with  the  cry  "  Nat ! 
Nat !  "  there  was  a  general  uprising.  But  Daisy  reached 
him  first,  and  seemed  to  have  lost  her  usual  composure 
somewhere  on  the  way,  for  she  clung  to  him,  sobbing 
with  the  shock  of  a  surprise  and  joy  too  great  for  her 
to  bear  quietly.  Everything  was  settled  by  that  tearful 
and  tender  embrace,  for,  though  Mrs.  Meg  speedily 
detached  her  daughter,  it  was  only  to  take  her  place ; 
while  Demi  shook  Nat's  hand  with  brotherly  warmth, 
and  Josie  danced  round  them  like  Macbeth's  three 
witches  in  one,  chanting  in  her  most  tragic  tones,  — 

' '  Chirper  thou  wast ;  second  violin  thou  art ;  first 
thou  shalt  be.     Hail,  all  hail !  " 

This  caused  a  laugh,  and  made  things  gay  and  com- 
fortable at  once.  Then  the  usual  fire  of  questions  and 
answers  began,  to  be  kept  up  briskly  while  the  boys 
admired  Nat's  blond  beard  and  foreign  clothes,  the 
girls  his  improved  appearance,  —  for  he  was  ruddy  with 
good  English  beef  and  beer,  and  fresh  with  the  sea- 
breezes  which  had  blown  him  swiftly  home,  —  and  the 
older  folk  rejoiced  over  his  prospects.  Of  course  all 
wanted  to  hear  him  pla}r ;  and  when  tongues  tired,  he 
gladly  did  his  best  for  them,  surprising  the  most  criti- 
cal by  his  progress  in  music  even  more  than  by  the 
energy  and  self-possession  which  made  a  new  man  of 
bashful  Nat.  By  and  by  when  the  violin  — that  most 
human  of  all  instruments  —  had  sung  to  them  the  love- 
liest songs  without  words,  he  said,  looking  about  him 
at  these  old  friends  with  what  Mr.  Bhaer  called  a 
"  feeling-full"  expression  of  happiness  and  content, — 

"  Now  let  me  play  something  that  you  will  all  remem- 
fear,  though  you  won't  love  it  as  I  do ;  "  and  standing  in 


364  JO'S  BOYS. 

the  attitude  which  Ole  Bull  has  immortalized,  he  playecc 
the  street  melody  he  gave  them  the  first  night  he  came  to 
Plumfield.  They  remembered  it,  and  joined  in  the  plain- 
tive chorus,  which  fitly  expressed  his  own  emotions  :  — ■ 

"Oh,  my  heart  is  sad  and  weary 
Everywhere  I  roam, 
Longing  for  the  old  plantation 
And  for  the  old  folks  at  home." 

"  Now  I  feel  better,"  said  Mrs.  Jo,  as  they  all 
trooped  dovn  the  hill  soon  after.  "  Some  of  our  bo3's 
are  failures,  but  I  think  this  one  is  going  to  be  a  suc- 
cess, and  patient  Dais\T  a  happy  girl  at  last.  Nat  is 
your  work,  Fritz,  and  I  congratulate  you  heartily." 

"  Ach,  we  can  but  sow  the  seed  and  trust  that  it  falls 
on  good  ground.  I  planted,  perhaps,  but  you  watched 
that  the  fowls  of  the  air  did  not  devour  it,  and  brother 
Laurie  watered  generously  ;  so  we  will  share  the  harvest 
among  us,  and  be  glad  even  for  a  small  one,  heart's- 
dearest." 

"  I  thought  the  seed  had  fallen  on  very  ston}T  ground 
with  m}r  poor  Dan ;  but  I  shall  not  be  surprised  if  he 
surpasses  all  the  rest  in  the  real  success  of  life,  since 
ihere  is  more  rejoicing  ^ver  one  repentant  sinner  .than 
man}'  saints, "  answered  Mrs.  Jo,  still  clinging  fast  to 
her  black  sheep  although  a  whole  flock  of  white  onep 
trotted  happily  before  her. 

It  is  a  strong  temptation  to  the  weary  historian  to 
close  the  present  tale  with  an  earthquake  which  should 
engulf  Plumfield  and  its  environs  so  deeply  in  the  bowels 
of  the  earth  that  no  youthful  Schliemann  could  ever  find 
a  vestige  of  it.     But  as  that  somewhat  melodramatic 


POSITIVELY  LAST  APPEARANCE.        865 

conclusion  might  shock  my  gentle  readers,  I  will  refrain, 
and  forestall  the  usual  question,  "  How  did  they  end?" 
by  briefly  stating  that  all  the  marriages  turned  out  well, 
The  bo}Ts  prospered  in  their  various  callings  ;  so  did  the 
girls,  for  Bess  and  Josie  won  honors  in  their  artistic 
careers,  and  in  the  course  of  time  found  worthy  mates. 
Nan  remained  a  busy,  cheerful,  independent  spinster, 
and  dedicated  her  life  to  her  suffering  sisters  and  their 
children,  in  which  true  woman's  work  she  found  abiding 
happiness.  Dan  never  married,  but  lived,  bravely  and 
usefully,  among  his  chosen  people  till  he  was  shot  de- 
fending them,  and  at  last  lay  quietly  asleep  in  the  green 
wilderness  he  loved  so  well,  with  a  lock  of  golden  hair 
upon  his  breast,  and  a  smile  on  his  face  which  seemed 
to  say  that  Aslauga's  Knight  had  fought  his  last  fight 
and  was  at  peace.  Stuffy  became  an  alderman,  and  died 
suddenly  of  apoplexy  after  a  public  dinner.  Dolly  was 
a  society  man  of  mark  till  he  lost  his  money,  when  he 
found  congenial  employment  in  a  fashionable  tailoring 
establishment.  Demi  became  a  partner,  and  lived  to  see 
his  name  above  the  door,  and  Rob  was  a  professor  at 
Laurence  College ;  but  Teddy  eclipsed  them  all  by  be- 
coming an  eloquent  and  famous  clergyman,  to  the  great 
delight  of  his  astonished  mother.  And  now,  having 
endeavored  to  suit  every  one  by  many  weddings,  few 
deaths,  and  as  much  prosperity  as  the  eternal  fitness 
of  things  will  permit,  let  the  music  stop,  the  lights  die 
out,  and  the  curtain  tall  forever  on  the  March  family, 


New  Illustrated  Editions  of 
Miss  Alcott's  Famous  Stories 

THE  LITTLE  WOMEN  SERIES 

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The  artists  selected  to   illustrate  have  caught  the  spirit  cf  the  originals  and  contributed  a 

Series  of  strikingly  beautiful  and  faithful  pictures  of  the  author's  characters  and  scenes.  — 

Boston  Herald. 

Alice  Barber  Stephens,  who  is  very  near  the  head  of  American  illustrators,  has  shown 

wonderful  ability  in  delineating  the  characters  and  costumes  for  "  Little  Women."     They  are 

almost  startlingly  realistic.  —  Worcester  Spy. 

Miss  Alcott's  books  have  never  before  had  such  an  attractive  typographical  dress  as  the 

present.     They  are  printed  in  large  type  on  heavy  paper,  artistically  bound,  and  illustrated 

with  many  full-page  drawings.  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

LITTLE,    BROWN,   &   COMPANY 

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New  Illustrated  Edition  of 
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THE    SPINNING-WHEEL    SERIES 

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FOUR  volumes  of  healthy  and  hearty  stories  so  told  as  to 
fascinate  the  young  people,  while  inculcating  sturdy  courage 
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which  fit  them  for  filling  a  woman's  place  in  the  home.  The  several 
artists  have  caught  the  spirit  of  th~  author  and  have  provided  capital 
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It  is  not  rash  to  say  that  Miss  Alcott' s  stories  were  never  more 
appealing  to  young  readers  than  at  the  present  moment.  In  spite 
of  a  profusion  of  juvenile  fiction,  they  have  steadily  held  their  own  ° 
and  they  persistently  refuse,  through  their  inherent  merits,  to  be 
elbowed  aside  by  pretentious  modern  stories  of  unnatural  and  unreal 
childhood  life.  The  very  genuineness  of  character  and  incident, 
the  homely  appeal  to  all  that  is  best  in  young  womanhood  and 
young  manhood,  have  made  "Little  Men,"  "Little  Wom?n," 
and  their  successors  classics  in  their  kind. —  Boston  Transcript . 


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